Bx   «yii)  .U3  i«yu  V.4 — ' 

Dabney,  Robert  Lewis,  1820- 

1898. 
Discussions 


j^.     X.     'DaSney. 


DISCUSSIONS 


Robert  L.  Dabney,  d.  d.,  ll  d. 


RECENTLY   PROFESSOK    OF    MORAL    PHILOSOPHY 

IN  THE  UNIVERSITY  OF   TEXAS,    AND    FOR 

MANY  YEARS  PROFESSOR  OF  THEOLOGY 

IN  UNION  THEOLOGICAL  SEMINARY 

IN  VIRGINIA. 


EDITED     ]5V 

C.     R.     V  AUG  HAN,     D.     D. 

PliOFKSSOH    OK  TIIKOr.OfiY    INfNION   TIIKdI.txaCAL  SKMINAKY.    VIK(;iXI.V. 


VOL.     I V. 
SECULAR. 


CRESCENT    BOOK    HOUSE 
Mexico,    Mo 
1897. 


Copyritrht     by 
S.    B.    ERVIN.     Mexico.     Mo. 

1W7. 


PUBLISHER'S  PREFACE. 


This  volume  of  Dr.  Dabney's  "Selected  Discus- 
sions," is  the  last  of  the  four  orig'inally  contemplated. 
Though  it  is  called  •'Secular/'  because  a  large  proportion 
of  the  articles  are  of  a  secular  character;  yet  doubtless  it 
will  be  all  the  more  appreciated  because  of  the  greater 
variety  given  in  the  addition  of  a  goodly  number  of  relig- 
ious articles  and  poems. 

He  who  has   either  of   these  volumes  has  a  mine  of 

thought  in  which  to  delve:  he  who  has  all  has  a  reservoir 

of  intellectual  and  spiritual    food    seldom  equaled   in  the 

writings  of  any  one  man. 

S.  B.   Ervin. 


COXTEXTS. 


PAGE 

The  New  South.           .......  1 

Letter  to  0.  0.  Howard,  Chief  of  Freedmex's  Bureau,  25 

Abstractionists,           .                      .           .           .           .  '        .  46 

Crimes  of  Philanthropy.              .....  53 

Defense  of  Dr.  Dabnevs  Narrative  of  the  First  Battle  of 

Manassas,               .......  71 

Narrative  of  Col.  J.  B.  Baldwin,  of  his  Secret  Interview  with 

Abraham  Lincoln  in  1861.  Disclosing  the  Origin  of  the  V/ar.  87 

The  Real  Cause  of  the  War,        .  101 

The  Duty  of  the  Hour.                        .....  108 

The  United  States  as  a  Military  Nation,        .           .           .  123 

Stonewall  Jackson,  Lecture.           .....  149 

The  Ne(;ro  and  the  Common  School,             ....  176 

The  State  Free  School   Syste.m  Imposed  upon  Virginia  by  the 

Underwood  Constitution.        .....  191 

Secularized  Education.        ......  225 

Review  of  "Wilson's  Slave  Power  in  America,"'               .         -  .  248 

State  Free  Schools,           ......  260 

Commendation  of  the  Study  of  Philosophy,  Lecture,        .           .  281 

Labor  Unions,  the  Strike  and  the  Commune,           .              .  294 

Depression  OF  American  Farmino  Interests,                    .           .  321 

The  Dollar  of  the  Daddies.            .....  341 

Economic  Effects  of  the  Former  L-a.bor  System  of  the  South- 
ern United  St.\tes.           .....  354 

Memoirs  of  Francis  S.  Sampson,  D.  D.,       .           .           .           .  392 

True  Courage.     A  Memorial  Sermon  on  the  Death  of  General  T.  J. 

Jackson,  June,  1863.            ......  435 

A   Memorial  of  Lieut.  Col.  John  T.   Thornton  of  the  Third 

Virginia  t^avalry,  C.  S.  A .             .  453 

Nature  Cannot  Revolutionize  Nature,                .           .           .  470 

Samuel  C.  Anderson,  of  Prince  Edward.        ....  476 

Women's  Rights  Women,        ......  489 

Latest  Infidelity.     A  Reply  to  Ingersolls  Position,                        .  506 

The  ATTR.A.CTI0NS  of  Popery,           .....  540 

The  Influence  of  False  Philosophies  upon  Ch.\racter  and 

Conduct,                .......  568 

San  Marcus  River.              ......  577 

Death  of  Moses.             .......  579 

B.A.PTISMAL  Hy.mn.     A  Monody.     The  Dying  Christian,               .  584 

A  Sonnet  to  Lee,       ......               .  587 

Gen'l  T-  J.  Jackson.     An  Elegy,          ...             .           .  588 

Annihilation.        ...               ....  594 

First  Texas  Brigade  at  the  Wilderness,            .            .           .  598 


THE  NEW  SOUTH. 

A  Discourse  delivered  at  the  Annual  Commencement  of  Hampden  Sidney 
College,  June  15,  1882,  before  the  Philanthropic  and 
Union  Literary  Societies. 
Yoiino-  Geurlenieii  of  the  rhilaiirhropic  and  Union  Societies, 

And  Ladies  and  Gentlemen  of  the  Audience: 

You  will  credit  my  expression  of  sincere  embarrassment  at 
this  time  when  you  consider  that  I  am  attemptino-  a  species  of 
discourse  somewhat  unwonted  to  a  preaclier  of  the  (Jospel.  and 
yet  more,  that  I  am  placed  here  only  as  a  species  of  Lirnier  Res- 
sort.  We  all  had  hopes  that  another  gentleman  would  repre- 
sent the  two  Literary  Societies,  better  fitted  to  entertain  and 
instruct  this  assemblage.  But  disappointment  left  the  place, 
at  a  very  late  jieriod,  unfilled,  and  we  were  threatened  with 
having  this  imjiartaut  part  of  our  literary  anniversary  left  a 
mere  blank.  I  stand  here,  therefore,  in  the  formula  of  your  ex- 
ercises very  much  in  the  place  of  that  "infinitesimal  quantity," 
which  the  algebraist  places  equal  to  zero  in  his  e(]uation.  with- 
out appreciable  error. 

This  fact  might  have  led  me  to  decline  the  untimely  etfort. 
but  we  who  are  passing  off  the  stage  of  public  action  owe  a 
sym})athy  to  the  young  who  are  entering  on  it,  which  should 
forbid  our  withholding  any  service  or  evidence  of  affection 
they  may  ask  of  us.  It  is  this  which  has  forbidden  my  saying 
No  to  yaur  request. 

In  your  case  there  is  another  weighty  consideration  which 
ought  to  reinforce  your  claim  on  us  for  a  deep  sympathy.  This 
is  found  in  the  momentous  difficulties  of  the  Arena  on  which 
the  young  men  af  the  coming  generation  are  called  to  act  their 
part.  And  yet  another  thought  crosses  the  mind.  Ought  the 
knowledge  of  the  difficulties  which  are  before  you  to  stimulate 
the  expression  of  our  interest,  or  ought  it  to  dictate  a  modesty, 
which  should  silence  us  as  advisers  of  ;)ur  young  countrymen? 
For  it  is  by  our  hands  that  these  ci-uel  conditions  of  youi'  life- 
problem  have  been  transmitted  to  vou.  The  heritage  of  freedom 


2  THE   NEW    SOUTH. 

>.uicli  our  fathers  left  us,  we  have  not  been  able  to  bequeath  to 
you.  As  memory  reYerts  to  my  youth,  when  I  stood  where  you 
now  stand,  it  presents  a  contrast  which  might  well  seal  my  lips 
with  grief  and  shame.  Then  my  honored  father  and  grand- 
father were  just  going  oft  the  stage,  the  one  a  soldier  of  the 
first  war  which  won  our  independence,  and  the  other  of  the  sec- 
ond war  which  confirmed  it,  both  examples  of  that  citizen  boi- 
diery  which  had  been  the  glory  of  America,  plain,  simple,  un- 
pretending, but  incorruptible.  And  Virginia  the.i  stood.  v»  ith 
untarnished  escutcheon,  poor  indeed  from  the  burdens  of  two 
wars,  and  the  legislative  exactions  of  her  partners  in  the  Union, 
clad  mostly  in  homespun,  but  still  the  "great  and  unterrified 
commonwealth"  which  extorted  this  tribute  from  Cornwallis 
in  his  hour  of  victory:  ''mother  of  Statesmen  and  States,"  whose 
humblest  citizen  knew  no  master  except  God  and  the  law  of  his 
own  State's  election,  whose  banner  had  never  trailed  before  a 
conqueror,  by  whom  no  federal  obligation  had  ever  been  dis- 
honored, and  no  creditor  ever  defrauded  of  one  penny;  with  a 
credit  as  solid  as  gold  in  the  emporiums  of  trade;  the  firm  and 
prudent  mediator  between  federal  power  and  the  too  impatient 
spirit  of  her  sisters.  Thus  did  our  fathers  transmit  Virginia  to 
our  guardianship,  the  warrior-virgin,  like  the  Pallas-Athene  of 
Phidias,  as  she  stood  before  the  Parthenon,  flashing  the  rad- 
iance of  her  golden  helm  and  full-orbed  shield  across  the  Saronic 
gulf  and  Aegina  and  Salamis,  to  far  off  Maegara  and  Argos. 

But  we,  vac  nobis  miserrimisl  deliver  her  over  to  you,  not. 
How?  a  pallid,  w^oful  widow,  deflowered  by  subjugation,  dis- 
membered of  her  fair  proportions,  her  weeds  besmirched  even 
by  her  own  sons,  virtually  governed  by  the  votes  of  an  alien  and 
barbarous  horde,  forced  into  her  bosom  by  her  late  partners, 
now  her  ravagers,  against  her  constant  protest! 

As  I  rememiber  this  I  ask  myself,  should  not  men  who 
have  so  failed  in  their  charge,  who  have  suffered  the  glorious 
heritage  of  their  fathers  to  be  so  marred  in  their  hands,  cover 
their  faces  and  be  silent? 

But  our  sons,  whom  our  weakness,  or  else  our  hard  fate, 
has  left  disinherited,  seem  not  to  be  ashamed  of  us!  They  ask, 
they  encourage  us  to  speak.  This  is  my  apology  for  presuming 
to  speak  to-day  to  the  "New  South,"  and  of  the  New  South. 


THE   NEW    SOUTH.  ^ 

Oni-  otlier  apology  is,  that  in  the  endeavor  ta  save  the  liberties 
transmitted  by  our  fathers,  we  did  what  we  could.  And  in 
proof  of  this  justifying-  plea,  we  can  point  to  the  forms  prema- 
turely bent,  and  the  heads  whitened  by  fatigue  and  camp  dis- 
eases, to  the  empty  sleeves,  and  wooden  legs,  and  tD  the  Con- 
federate graves  so  thickly  strewn  over  the  land.  Our  apology  is, 
again,  that  while  we  were  contending  for  the  rights  and  inter- 
ests of  the  civilized  world,  nearly  the  whole  world  blindly  and 
passionately  arrayed  itself  against  us.  Such  was  the  strange 
I)ermission  of  l^rovidence,  that  we,  while  defending  the  cause 
of  all,  should  be  slandered  and  misunderstood  by  all.  But  why 
should  I  say  this  fearful  dispensation  was  strange?  when  we 
see  that  from  the  days  of  the  Christian  martyrs  until  now, 
mankind  have  usually  resisted  and  sought  to  destroy  its  true 
benefactors.  So  it  was;  we  had  the  world  against  us.  There 
was,  after  all,  little  exaggeration  in  the  description  which  the 
Confederate  soldier  at  Missionary  Ridge,  with  the  humorous 
exaggeration  of  his  class,  gave  of  his  own  case.  Said  he:  No 
misgi^ang  of  our  linal  delivery  had  ever  disturbed  him  until  at 
the  early  dawn  of  that  disastrous  battle,  as  he  was  standing  post 
on  the  advanced  picket  on  Lookout  Mountain,  just  when  the 
stars  were  beginning  to  pale  before  the  grey  dawn,  and  all  na- 
ture stood  hushed  in  expectancy  of  the  coming  king  of  day,  the 
solemn  silence  was  broken  by  the  words  of  command,  rolling 
from  the  Yankee  headquarters  over  the  forests  in  these  terms: 
''Attention,  World!  Nations,  by  the  right  flank,  forward! 
Wheel  into  line  of  battle."  Yes,  we  had  the  world  against  us. 
And  this  is  one  item  of  i^roof  for  that  fact  which  completes 
our  apology  for  failure;  that  subsequent  events  have  shown  we 
were  attempting  to  defend  and  preserve  a  system  of  free  gov- 
ernment which  had  become  impossible  by  reason  of  the  change 
and  degeneration  of  the  age.  We  did  not  believe  this  at  the 
time,  for  we  had  not  omniscience.  Nay,  it  was,  at  that  time, 
our  duty  not  to  know  it,  or  to  believe  it,  even  as  it  is  the  duty 
of  the  loyal  son  not  to  believe  the  disease  of  his  venerable 
mother  mortal,  so  long  as  hope  is  possible;  not  to  cease  the  ef- 
forts of  his  love,  and  not  to  surrender  her  to  death  while  love 
and  tenderness  can  contest  the  prize.  We  had  received  this 
free  government  from  our  fathers,  baptized  in  their  blood;  we 


4  THE   NEW     SOUTH. 

had  received  from  them  the  sacred  injniictioii  to  preserve  it. 
We  had  witnessed  its  beneficent  results.  Of  all  men  it  was  our 
duty  to  feel  ourselves  most  bound  by  the  maxim  of  the  Roman 
republican,  IVon\fas  est  de  Republica  desperare.  The  changes 
had  silently  taken  place,  which  rendered  our  fathers'  system 
too  giood  for  those  who  were  to  execute  it;  and  yet  it  would 
have  'been  treason  to  truth  and  right  for  us  to  despair  of  the 
better  possibility,  until  the  impossibility  stood  sternly  revealed. 
Thus  the  task  which  duty  and  Providence  assigned  us  was.  to 
demonstrate  by  our  own  defeat,  after  intensest  struggle,  the 
unfitness  of  the  age  for  that  blessing  we  would  fain  have  pre- 
served for  them.  Hard  task,  and  hard  destiny  to  attempt  the 
impossible!  but  one  which  has  often  been  exacted  l)y  a  mys- 
terious Providence  from  the  votaries  of  duty.  Yet  it  gives  us 
this  hard  consolation,  that  inasmuch  as  the  survival  of  our  old 
sys.tem  had  become  impracticable,  failure  in  the  effort  to  pre- 
serve it  might  be  incurred  without  dishonor. 

And  there  is  this  concurrence  in  the  justification  of  the 
Oonfederates,  and  the  justification  to  which  you,  the  "New 
South,"  will  soon  have  to  appeal  for  your  actions:  that  both 
apologies  are  correctly  drawn  from  the  ;same  premise.  Be 
cause  the  old  free  system  has  become  impossible  for  your  times; 
therefore  you  will  be  justified  in  living  and  acting  under  an 
opposite  one.  There  will  be  an  apparent  paradox  in  this:  that 
you  shall  applaud  and  revere  your  fathers  for  their  determined 
opposition  to  forms  and  principles,  which  you  shall  recei\e  and 
even  sustain.  But  the  paradox  v/ill  be  only  in  seeming.  Your 
justification  will  be  found  where  we  find  ours;  in  the  fact  that 
the  institutions  which  it  was  our  duty  to  defend,  because  they 
still  existed,  it  will  be  your  duty  to  surrender,  because  you  have 
learned  by  our  innocent  calamity  that  they  cannot  hereafter 
exist.  "A  new  South"  is  inevitable,  and  therefore  it  will  be 
mght  for  you  to  accept  it,  though  it  was  our  duty  to  fight  to 
prevent  it.  It  may  be  the  son's  duty  to-morrow  to  "bury  the 
dead  mother  out  of  his  sight,"  whom  it  was  the  father's  most 
sacred  duty  yesterday  to  endeavor  to  keep  alive. 

Tlie  government  our  fathers  left  to  us  was  a  federation  of 
sovereign  States.  As  such  they  emerged  from  the  war  of  the 
revolution,  and   were  recognized  by   Great  Britain.    As   such 


THE   NEW   SOUTH.  5 

they  met  in  c-onventioa  to  devise  a  ^'closer  union."  As  such 
they  debated  and  accepted  or  rejected  the  terms  proposed 
therefDr  (for  some  ^States  at  first  did  exercise  their  unquestion- 
ed sovereignty  in  rejecting  the  new  union.)  By  their  several 
and  sovereign  acts  they  created  a  central  federated  govern- 
ment, with  limited  powers  strictly  defined,  and  deputed  to  this 
common  agent  certain  powers  over  their  own  citizens,  to  be  im- 
partially exercised  for  the  equal  behoof  of  all  the  partners. 
All  other  powers,  including  that  af  judging  and  redressing  vital 
infractions  of  this  federal  compact,  they  jealously  and  express- 
ly reserved  to  themselves  or  to  their  people.  To  the  outside 
world  they  were  to  be  one,  to  each  other  they  were  to  be  still 
equals  and  independent  partners.  Each  State  must  be  a  re- 
public, as  distinguished  from  a  monarchy  or  oligarchy,  but  in 
all  else  it  was  to  be  mistress  of  its  own  internal  forms  and  regu- 
lations. The  functions  of  the  general  government  were  to  be 
few  and  defined,  its  expenditures  modest,  and  its  burdens  in 
time  of  peace  light.  Such  was  the  form,  of  government  insti- 
tuted for  themselves  by  our  free  forefathers;  and  well  fitted 
to  their  genius  and  circumstances,  as  communities  of  farmers, 
inhabiting  their  own  homes,  approaching  an  equality  of  condi- 
tion, and  having  upon  the  whole  continent  no  one  city  of  con- 
trolling magnitude  or  wealth. 

But  this  century  has  seen  all  this  reversed;  and  conditions 
of  human  society  have  grown  up,  which  make  the  system  of  our 
free  forefath^ers  obviously  impracticable  in  the  future.  And 
this  is  so,  not  'because  the  old  forms  were  not  good  enough  for 
this  day,  but  because  they  were  too  good  for  it. 

1.  I  would  place  as  the  first  of  these  adverse  conditions 
the  silent  substitution,  under  the  same  nomenclature,  of  anoth- 
er theory  of  human  rights,  in  contrast  with,  and  hostile  to,  that 
of  our  fathers.  Those  wise  men  did  indeed  believe  in  a  certain 
equality  of  all  men;  bur  it  was  that  which  the  British  constitu- 
tion (whose  principles  they  inherited)  was  wont  to  express  by 
the  maxim:  that  every  British  citizen  "was  equal  before  the 
law."  The  particular  franchises  of  the  peer  and  the  peasant 
were  very  uneijual.  but  in  this  important  respect  the  two  men 
were  '*e(iual  before  the  law,"  that  the  peasant's  smaller  fran- 
chises were  protected  toy  the  same  law  which  shielded  the  peer's 


6  THE   XEW    SOUTH. 

larger  one.  This  is  the  equality  of  the  golden  rule,  the  equal- 
ity of  that  Bible  which  ordained  the  constitution  of  human  so- 
ciety out  of  superiors,  inferiors  and  equals;  the  equality  of  the 
inspired  Job  (ch.  31:  13-15)  who  in  the  very  act  of  asserting  his 
right  to  his  slave,  added:  -Did  not  he  that  made  me  make 
him?  If  I  did  despise  the  cause  of  my  man-servant  or  my  maid- 
servant when  they  contended  with  me.  what  then  shall  I  do 
when  God  riseth  up?"  This  is  the  equality  which  is  thoroughly 
consistent  with  that  wide  diversity  of  natural  cai)acities.  vir- 
tues, station,  sex,  inherited  possessions,  which  inexorable  fact 
discloses  everywhere  and  by  means  of  which  social  organiza- 
tion is  possible.  But  in  place  of  this,  the  equality  taught  by 
Hampden.  Yane.  Pym.  Melville,  and  the  Whigs  of  1776.  our 
modern  politician  now  teaches,  under  the  same  name,  the  equal- 
ity of  the  Jacobin,  of  the  ''Sans  culotte,"  which  absurdly  claims 
for  every  human  the  same  specific  powers  and  rights.  Yes. 
your  Greeley  teaches,  as  the  equality  of  Republicanism,  the 
very  doctrine  of  the  frantic  Leveller  Lilburn.  whose  book  these 
great  English  Republicans  caused  mot  your  tyrannical  Stuart 
but  the  commonwealth's-men)  to  be  burned  in  London  by  the 
common  hangman  I 

Our  fathers  valued  liberty,  but  the  liberty  for  which  they 
contended  was  each  person's  privilege  to  do  those  things  and 
those  only  to  which  God's  law  and  Providence  gp.ve  him  a  mor- 
al right.  The  liberty  of  nature  which  your  modern  asserts  is 
absolute  license;  the  privilege  of  doing  whatever  a  corrupt  will 
craves,  except  as  this  license  is  curbed  by  a  voluntary  "social 
contract."  The  fathers  of  our  country  could  have  adopted  the 
sublime  words  of  Melville:  Lex:  Rax.  The  Law  is  king.  Or 
have  said  with  Sir  Wm.  Jones: 

Men    constitute  a  State: 
And  sovereign  Law,  that  State's  collected  will. 

O'er  thrones  and  globes  elate. 
Sits  Empress,  crowning  good,  repressing  ill. 

Smit  by  her  sacred  frown. 
The  fiend  (Construction) Z'Mrr<f//(?«   like  a  vapor  sinks. 

And  even  the  all-dazzling  crown. 
Hides  his  faint  rays,  and  at  her  bidding  shrinks. 

But  now.  by  this  new  Republicanism,  the  supreme  law  is 


THK   KEVV   SOUTH.  7 

the  will  or  caprice  of  what  happens  to  be   tlu  major  mob,  the 
suggestiou  of  the  demagogue  who  is  most  artful  to  seduce. 

These  are  a  few  items  of  the  new  creed,  which  has  stolen 
the  nomenclature  of  the  old.  Since  it  is  a  the3ry  at  all  essen- 
tial points  antagonistic  to  the  old,  its  prevalence  cannot  but 
supplant  those  sound  institutions  which  were  the  natural  out- 
growth of  the  orthodox  doctrine. 

2.  When  our  former  constitution  was  adopted,  America 
contained  no  metropolis,  not  even  any  city  of  note;  there  were 
a  few  trading  tawns.  of  which  each  State  had  one  or  more,  and 
of  which  neither  had  any  effectual  ascendancy  over  the  others. 
Hence  State  equality  wa.s  practicable,  and  could  be  effectively 
something  more  than  a  name.  But  now%  the  great  emporium  of 
this  continent  has  made  herself,  by  virtue  of  natural  advantages 
co-operating  with  partial  legislation,  commercial  mistress  of 
all,  and  asserts  a  financial  ascendancy  which  brings  the  busi- 
ness aud  the  welfare  of  the  whole  country  to  her  feet.  It  used 
to  be  said  that  in  England  "all  roads  lead  to  London."  So,  in 
this  vast  continent,  all  railraads  tend  to  New  York,  or  those 
which  vainly  attempt  to  reject  her  dominion  soon  feel  it  in  the 
form  of  empty  trains  and  vanished  revenues.  Now,  in  view  of 
tlut  truth  announced  by  Solomon,  that  ''money  answereth  all 
thiiigs,"  can  a  sensible  man  persuade  himself  that  political  in- 
dependence and  equality  can  permanentl}'  remain  in  a  land 
where  financial  despotism  has  become  established?  "The  bor- 
rower is  servant  to  the  lender."  The  political  subjection  must, 
sooner  or  later,  follow  the  financial. 

3.  Our  century  has  witnessed  a  general  change  of  social 
conditions  by  means  of  the  marvelous  applications  of  science 
and  mechanic  art  to  cheapen  transportation  and  production. 
Once  the  commonwealth  owned  all  the  highway's  by  water  and 
by  land,  and  each  private  citizen  might  become  a  carrier  if  he 
chose,  .Sow  the  highways  are  the  jn'operty  of  great  carrying 
corporations,  who  command  more  men  as  their  disciplined  em- 
ployes than  the  government's  own  standing  army,  before  whose 
revenues  the  whole  incomes  of  commonwealths  are  paltry 
trifles;  to  whose  will  legislatures  hasten  to  bow.  Each  of  these 
roads  points  virtually  to  New  York.  To  that  city,  yes,  to  one 
corner  of  Wall  S^roet  in  that  city,  center  all  their  debts,  their 
leans,  their  revenues,  their  chief  management. 


8  THE    NEW    SOUTH. 

This  centralization  is  as  remarlvable  also  in  tlio  idoducinjjj 
ai-ts.  The  time  was  when  manufactures  wci'c  literally  domestic 
— the  occupatixms  of  the  people  tn  their  homes.  The  industrious 
]»roducin<;-  citizen  was  a  "free-holder,"  a  name  wluse  A'ital  sig- 
nificance to  Bi'itish  liberty  our  times  have  almost  for<>()tten.  He 
dwelt  under  ills  own  I'oof-tree.  He  was  his  own  man;  he  was 
the  fee-sini]»le  owner  of  the  homestead  where  his  })roductions 
were  created  'by  the  skill  and  labor  of  himself  and  his  children, 
a|)prentices  and  servants.  X:)w  all  this  is  chan<;'ed;  the  loom  is 
no  longer  heard  in  the  home;  vast  factories,  owned  'by  monopo- 
lists for  whom  the  cant  of  the  age  tias  already  found  their  ap- 
l)ropriate  name  as  "kiings  of  industry,"  now  undersell  the  home 
products  everywhere.  The  axe  and  hoe  which  the  husbandman 
wields,  ;)nce  made  at  the  country  forge,  tlie  shoe  jtlaced  on  his 
mule's  feet,  tlu'  jdow  witli  which  he  turns  the  soil,  the  very 
helve  in  his  tool,  all  come  from  the  factoi-y.  The  home  indus- 
try of  th(^  housewife  in  l)i-(nving  Ikm-  own  yeast  can  hardly  sur- 
A'ive,  but  is  sup]ilanted  by  your  factory  "baking  powdei-s,"  in 
which  chemical  adulterations  may  liave  full  play.  Thus  pro- 
duction is  centi-alized.  Cajxital  is  collected  in  c;)mm«ndiiig 
masses,  at  wlio;se  bidding  the  free-holding  citizen  is  sunk  into 
the  multitudinous  hiriddng  proletariat.  Conditions  of  social  or- 
ganization ai'e  again  producf^d,  fully  iiarallel  to  the  worst  re- 
sults of  feudalism,  in  their  incomjiatibility  with  rejjublican  in- 
stitutions. 

4.  From  these  changes  have  resulted  the  extreme  ine(|uuli- 
ties  of  fortune,  expenditures  and  luxuiy  wiiich  now  deform 
American  society.  When  our  late  coiistitution  was  (^nacted, 
American  citizens  enjoyed  a  general  equality  of  fortune  and 
comfort,  which  made  a  real,  republican  (Mjuality  of  rights  prac- 
ticable. The  only  aristocracy  recognized  was  that  >f  intelli- 
gence and  merit.  The  richest  citizen  was  only  a  farmer,  some- 
what more  abounding  than  his  neigli))or,  in  the  bi-eadth  of  his 
fields.  A  British  writer,  endeavoring  to  trace  in  the  republican 
society  the  existence  of  a  gentry,  could  find  no  greater  incomes 
than  those  of  Washington,  of  Mt.  Vernon,  and  Carroll,  of  Car- 
rollton,  each  reaching  possibly  |20,0()0  jier  annum.  And  the 
Mt.  Vernon  mansion  appeared  in  his  eyes  so  modest  that  he 
spoke  of  it  as  ''the  cottage,"  inhabited  by  the  proprietor.    But 


THE    NEW    SOUTH.  9 

now  I  some  of  oiii-  "kings  of  indnstiy"  count  rlieir  incomes  b.v 
almost  as  many  dollars  per  day.  Set  the  more  than  rejial  lux- 
ury of  a  \'anderbilt,  in  his  gaudy  palace,  beside  the  hirtding 
laborer  in  his  sordid  tenemenl  lodging,  who  is  Ms  theoretical 
equal!  Yes,  the  starving  hireling's  vote,  who  does  not  know 
whence  to-morrow's  potatoes  are  to  come  for  the  i)au})er  din- 
ner of  his  ragged  children,  shall  count  f  )r  precisely  as  uuicli 
as  the  vote  of  a  Vanderbilt.  This  is  the  theory.  And  ihis 
wretch  is  so  exalted  by  luis  manhood  sutfrage,  is  he?  as  to  be 
thoroughly  content  with  the  monstrous  inequality  of  enjoy- 
ments and  to  hearken  to  no  cravings  of  envy  or  rancour,  when 
he  sees  this  rampant  luxury  tiaunted  before  his  misery?  And 
this  lorldly  millionaire,  pampered  by  his  immeasurable  abun- 
dance, will  feel  no  lust  of  jvower,  no  am'bition  to  add  civic  do- 
minion to  the  plutocratic  whicli  he  already  possesses,  and  he 
will  be  satisfied  to  have  the  ignorant  vote  of  his  hireling  weigh 
precisely  as  much  as  his  own  in  every  legislative  act  touching 
his  tenure  of  his  millions?  He  who  knows  human  nature  sees 
that  to  expect  this  is  nuM-e  ci-aziness.  This  enormous  ineciual- 
ity  in  wealth  will  seek  to  protect,  to  assert  itself  in  politics. 
But  our  new-fangled  Rei»ublicanism  asserts  that,  politically, 
the  ^'anderbilt  shall  be  tln^  precise  equivalent  of  the  pauper. 
It  leaves  the  rich  man  no  legitimate  form  for  the  assertion  of 
his  superior  weight  or  the  protection  of  his  superior  interests 
in  the  State.  Wealth,  then,  must  seek  for  itself  illegitimate 
forms.  And  in  obeying  the  inevitable  impulse  through  these 
illegal  ways,  it  must  corru|)t  itself,  and  the  institutions  :)f  the 
land. 

5.  The  press  has  been  looked  to  as  the  safe  guardian  of 
popular  institutions.  It  has  been  called  by  an  p]nglish  \\'hig 
"the  fourth  estate  of  the  Realm. "  But  the  intiuences  under 
which  the  political  press  in  America  operates  constitute  this 
also  (me  of  the  fatal  hindrances  ro  the  subsistence  of  wise,  free 
institutions.  The  powerful  jouinals  must  be  also  the  creatures 
of  money.  The  conditions  of  journalism  are  such  that  (mly  a 
vast  capital  can  float  a  journal  into  a  safe  and  permanent  hav- 
en of  success.  Literature  is  a  commodity,  money  buys  and  sells 
it.  Let  the  genius  of  an  Addison,  a  Bolingbrooke,  a  Junius,  a 
3Iacaulav,  all  be  combined  on  the  one  side,  with  all  the  richest 


10  THE    NEW    SOUTH. 

resources  of  historical  learning  to  publish  the  political  truths 
which  happen  to  be  unpopular  without  a  great  capital;  and  let 
commercial  capital  give  its  supp3rt  to  the  pen  of  the  most  ig- 
norant demagogue  to  propagate  the  crudest  absurdities  in  which 
capital  supposes  it  has  a  selfish  and  corrupt  interest,  you  suall 
see  the  wisdom  of  true  statesmanship,  embellisii^d  by  all  the 
graces  of  scholarship  consigned  to  an  unread  obscurity  in  this 
coantry,  while  the  vulgar  stupidities  of  error  shall  visit  e^■e^y 
table  and  claim  every  eye.  Mammon  wills  it  so,  and  Mammon 
rules. 

The  reason  is  because  the  leading  presses  of  the  couinier- 
cial  centers  are  either  the  tools  of  parties  and  used  for  exclu- 
sive partisan  purposes,  or  else  they  are.  like  the  c;Uico  mills, 
mere  joint-stock  cancerns  for  money  making.  Either  ,vay,  the 
result  is  the  same.  The  contents  of  the  journ:'.l  are  not  dictat- 
ed at  all  by  truth  or  right,  but  solely  by  self-interest.  What 
doctrine  shall  it  assert?  Only  that  which  advances  the  strength 
of  the  faction,  or  which  attracts  the  more  numerous  subscrib- 
er's. Thus  the  press  instead  of  being  the  guide,  bec9mes  the 
mere  sycophant  of  misguided  public  opinion.  Let  only  any 
political  heresy  begin  to  be  current  enough  to  become  an  ele- 
ment of  danger  to  sound  institutions,  and  thenceforward  it  is 
the  interest  and  business  of  the  great  journals  to  give  it  their 
support.    To  resist  and  explode  it  "would  not  pay." 

6.  One  more  change  only,  my  time  permits  me  to  state, 
which  C3ncur.s  to  render  the  system  of  our  fathers  a  thing  cf 
the  past.  This  is  the  invariable  extension  of  the  suffrage,  which 
has  attended  every  political  change  in  America.  This  trait  has 
characterized  not  only  the  violent  revolution  through  which  we 
have  passed,  but  every  modification  of  constitution  made  by  the 
States.  We  even  see  it  working  with  equal  certainty  in  the  re- 
form measures  of  once  conservative  England.  In  every  case 
where  a  State  constitution  has  been  opened  to  change,  that 
change  has  been  towards  universal  suffrage,  unless  this  ex- 
treme had  been  already  reached;  and  in  no  single  case  has  a 
restriction  of  suffrage  been  even  attempted.  There  is  a  reason 
for  this  fated  law  of  progress  downwards  in  the  nature  of  the 
demagogue,  and  it  may  be  said  in  passing,  that  this  presents 
us  the  fatal  weak  pDint  in  the  theory  of  popular  government. 


THE   NEW    SOUTH.  11 

The  selfish  calcuhitions  and  instincts  of  these  courtiers  of  Kinj;- 
Mob,  ahvaj's  prompt  them  to  advocate  every  extension,  no 
matter  how  unwise  or  destructive,  and  seal  their  lips  from  oji- 
posing  it.  Their  calculation  runs  thus:  Here  is  a  new  class 
whom  some  one  has  proposed  to  enfranchise.  I  know,  as  does 
everj'  sensible  man,  that  it  is  a  folly.  But  perhaps  the  proposal 
may  prevail.  Hence,  I  cannot  afford  to  appose  it,  for  shouid 
it  prevail,  the  newly  enfranchised,  when  they  come  to  the  polls, 
will  remember  my  action  against  me.  But  if  I  am  a  forward 
advocate  of  it,  their  gratitude  will  make  them  vote  for  me. 
Thus  the  craziest  and  most  ruinous  proposition  to  create  a  new 
class  of  voters,  always  has  zealous  assertors,  and  for  the  same 
reason  it  meets  with  no  opposers   who  are  effective. 

Such  were  the  avowed  motives  (with  sectional  hatred  and 
revenge)  which  prompted  our  conquerors  to  fix  on  the  South- 
ern half  of  the  country  that  last  extreme  of  political  madnes^s, 
the  universal  and  unqualified  suffrage  of  the  slaves.  And  how 
deadly  in  their  potency  these  motives  of  self-seeking  are,  we 
may  see  in  this  fact,  that  they  even  silence  the  protest  of  our 
own  politicians!  There  is  not  one  of  them  w:ho  does  not  know 
that  this  measure  is  inevitably  pregnant  with  the  corruption 
and  overthrow  of  honest,  popular  government;  yet  there  is  not 
one  of  them,  who  is  a  candidate  for  votes,  who  has  the  nerve 
to  say  what  he  thinks,  or  to  demand  a  reversal  of  the  criminal 
blunder.  But  when  the  leaders  of  the  very  people  who  are  the 
first  victims  of  this  wrong,  are  too  much  intimidated  to  lift  a 
finger  for  its  correction,  whence  shall  deliverance  from  the  fa- 
tal incubus  come?  There  will  be  no  deliverance  until  suft'rage 
shall  have  been  so  foully  corrupted  by  this  and  its  other  per- 
versions, that  a  despairing  and  ruined  people  take  refuge  frcm 
its  intolerable  tyrannies  in  the  will  of  an  autocrat,  and  the  ig- 
norant and  venal  cease  to  vote  only  when  and  because  all  will 
be  forbidden  to  vote. 

Whether  just  and  free  institutions  can  co-exist  in  such  a 
country  as  this,  with  its  vast  population  and  inequalities  o-f 
condition,  along  with  this  extravagance  of  universal  suffrage, 
needs  no  debate.  Do  you  remember  the  prophetic  letter  of  Lord 
Macaulay  to  Mr.  Randall,  of  Xew  York?  Do  you  rememiber  the 
homely  instance  by  which  a  greater  than  Macaulay,  and  a  more 


12  THE    NEW     SOUTH. 

liiophetic  statesmau,  was  wont  to  close  Ms  arguments  in  favor 
of  that  sheet  anchor  of  liberty,  free-hold  suflfraue?  Mr.  Ran 
(lalph  used  to  exclaim:  '"Sirs,  the  empty  sack  does  not  stand 
upright."  In  an  advanced  material  civilization  like  ours,  ev- 
ery political  action  touches  property  somewhere.  If  the  vote 
which  represents  no  property  is  made  of  equal  weight  with  the 
vote  which  represents  large  property,  then,  with  such  inequali- 
ties of  wealth,  with  such  ostentatious  displays  of  the  luxury  of 
the  few  }ji(iuing  the  envy  af  the  impoverished  many,  just  so 
surely  as  men  are  men.  greedy  in  desire,  selfish  and  unright- 
eous, and  the  more  unrighteous  where  their  crime  is  wrapi)ed 
up  from  the  eye  of  conscience  in  the  folds  of  associated  action, 
two  results  must  follow,  are  already  following.  The  attempt 
of  the  proletariat  and  their  demagogues  to  use  their  irresponsi- 
ble suffrage  for  plunder;  the  resistance  of  the  capital-holding 
minority  to  this  plunder.  But  for  this  resistance,  though  it  be 
as  inevitable  as  the  instincts  of  self-preservation,  your  radical 
theory  offers  no  recognized,  legitimate  mode.  Radicalism  or- 
dains that  the  small  shall  be  equal  to  the  large;  the  dependent 
shall  counterweigli  the  independent;  the  vote  which  has  noth- 
ing to  lose,  shall  dispose  of  the  vote  of  him  who  has  all  to  lose. 
The  result  is.  that  self-defense  invents  illegitimate  nudes,  and 
the  unrighteous  assault  on  property  is  met  by  the  illegal  use  of 
property  to  protect  itself  and  to  intiate  itself  until  the  moral 
corruptions  wrought  in  our  politics  fester  to  putrescence  and 
dissolve  the  body. 

As  we  thus  lo  )k  back  upon  the  social  revolution  which  had 
established  itself  in  our  century,  we  see  that  political  revolu- 
tion had  become  unavoidable.  The  assault  on  our  rights  and 
institutions  was  but  the  first  wave  of  the  cataclysm.  It  swejit 
over  our  best  resistance,  because  there  were  other  waves  be- 
hind it  which  are  desfined  in  turn  to  (•()n(]uer  our  romiuerDrs. 
He  is  a  shallow  man,  indeed,  who  supposes  that  the  rev(dution 
will  pause  at  its  present  stage,  leaving  the  conquering  section 
ascendant,  and  rendering  this  unstable  eciuilibrium  of  the  mo- 
ment permanent.  No.  we  have  now  seen  but  the  first  act  of  the 
drama,  and  it  has  been  a  tragedy.  The  curtain  has  falleu  for 
the  time  to  the  music  of  a  miserere,  whose  jarring  chords  have 
fretted  the  heartstrings  of  such  as  Lee  and  his  comrades  into 


THE   NEW     SOUTH.  13 

death.  It  mav  well  liappeu  that  after  rhe  fashion  of  the  mimic 
stage,  the  next  rise  of  rhe  curraiu  may  be  accompanied  by  the 
garish  lights  of  a  deceitful  joy,  the  blood  stains  of  the  recent 
tragedy  covered  with  fresh  saw  dust,  and  the  new  act:M's  ush- 
ered in  with  a  burst  of  gay  melody.  But  the  other  acts  are  ro 
foll'ow.    May  they  not  be  tragic  also? 

That  popular  suffrage  does  not  now  really  govern  this  conn 
try,  that  it  is  notoriously  a  marketable  cammodity,  that  rlie 
United  States  have  really  ceased  already  to  be  what  they  pre- 
tend, a  federation  of  republican  States,  no  clear  sighted  man 
doubts.  Under  a  thin  veil  of  radical  democracy,  the  govern- 
'menr  has  already  become  an  oligarchy.  Are  not  Srate  conven- 
tions traded  off  by  the  magnates  as  openly  as  blocks  of  rail- 
road bonds?  Are  not  legislatures  bought  as  really  and  ;ilmosr 
as 'Openly  as  cargoes  of  corn?  Are  not  "corners"  made  in  jioli- 
ties  by  which  the  weaker  caititalists  are  sold  out,  as  really  as 
in  the  pork  market?  It  is  Washington  or  Wall  street  which 
really  dictates  what  platforms  shall  be  set  forth,  and  what  can- 
didates elected  and  what  appointments  made,  not  the  peoi)le  of 
the  States.  Some  of  you  may  have  heard  of  the  incident  which 
happened  in  our  neighboring  town,  in  that  year  when  our  South- 
ern conservatives,  in  their  wisdom,  made  Horace  Greeley  their 
standard-bearer,  hoping,  it  seems,  like  the  superstitious  Jews, 
to  "cast  out  devils  through  Beelzebub,  the  chief  of  the  devils"; 
to  retrieve  the  cause  of  order  and  right  through  the  arch  in- 
cendiary and  agitator  of  the  country.  Several  hopeful  souls 
were  arguing  his  success  from  the  many  signs  of  his  acceptance 
with  the  people.  It  was  said,  whole  radical  towns,  whole  Union 
Leagues  in  the  northwest  were  coming  over  to  Greeley.  A 
sagacious  banker  standing  'by  quietly  shook  his  head.  Our 
friends,  almost  vexed  at  his  skepticism,  asked:  "Why?  do  not 
all  these  accessions,  with  the  Southern  support,  promise  him 
success?''  His  answer  was:  "Gentlemen,  I  do  business  in 
Wall  Street,  and  Wall  Street  does  not  want  Greeley."  And  so 
the  country  did  not  have  Greeley,  and  Greeley  did  not  liave  the 
presidency  he  coveted,  but  went  aside  to  die  of  chagrin. 

So  Wall  Street  saw  in  the  third  term  im])erialism  tliinly 
masked,  and  as  its  oligarchs  preferred  to  be  mast(M-s  tliem- 
selves,  rather  than  have  Grant  their   master   and  ours.    Wall 


14  THE   NEW    SOtTTlt. 

Street  sent  to  Chu-ago  and  nominated  Garfield  as  its  convenient 
Iny-figure.  l>ut  liaving  carried  its  main  point  it  really  cared 
A'erj  little  abont  tiie  clioice  between  him  and  Hancock,  and  for 
a  time  did  not  trouble  itself.  So  the  people  were  about  to  elect 
Hancock.  Eut  yne  line  morning  this  simple  minded  "beefeater" 
perpetrated  the  faux  pas  of  endorsing  the  greenback  victory  in 
Maine.  And  now  that  Wall  Street  saw  that  the  Hancock  regime 
was  committed  to  "soft  money,"  it  did  trouble  itself,  and  woke 
up  and  put  its  hand  to  the  canvass.  It  would  none  of  Hancock 
and  his  soft  money,  and  so  the  people  could  not  have  Hancock 
nor  he  have  the  presidency. 

Obviously  the  government  now  ascendant  in  the  cauntry 
while  "Republican"  in  name  and  ultra-democratic  in  theory,  is 
an  oligarchy  in  fact.  Extremes  often  thus  meet.  Nothing  can 
be  more  fallacious  than  thai  viev.-,  advanced  by  some  of  our 
conciliatory  statesmen,  which  represents  the  recent  revolutions 
as  only  a  temporary-  excitement  and  partial  fit  of  excess  from 
which  the  institutions  of  the  country  will  re-act  under  prudent 
management  and  regain  their  old  constitutional  status.  There 
will  be  no  re-action  in  that  sense.  The  morbid  causes  which 
were  so  potent  to  overthrow  will  yet  more  certainly  be  power- 
ful enough  to  resist  and  suppress  the  weak  efforts  of  a  crip- 
pled, prostrate  constitution.  The  obstacles  between  us  and  a 
return  to  past  precedents  are  too  mountainous.  Consider  for 
instance,  that  "spoils  system,"  now  strong  with  a  generation's 
growth.  If  it  is  to  be  perpetrated,  this  of  itself  makes  popular 
constitutional  government  impossible.  For  every  intelligent 
man  sees  that  it  converts  office-holders  from  servants  of  the  peo- 
ple to  paid  agents  for  circumventing  the  people's  will  at  the 
polls,  paid  with  the  money  of  the  people  they  help  to  enslave. 
This  is  the  very  signature  of  despotism,  that  the  citizen's 
money  is  taken  to  bribe  agents  for  suppressing  the  citizen's 
will.  Under  this  system  the  office-holders  are  the  pretorian  co- 
horts of  the  usurper. 

But  let  one  think  out  now  the  conditions  essential  to  the 
realizing  of  that  "civil  service  reform,"  which  each  party  pre- 
tends to  promise,  but  which  neither  party  purposes,  as  the  ap- 
propriate remedy  for  the  spoils  system.  One  of  the  requisite 
conditions  is  that  one  of  these  parties  upon  ousting  the  other 


THE   NEW    SOUTH.  l5 

from  power  shall  exercise  the  self-denial  and  magnanimity  to 
leave  all  their  rival's  appointees,  except  those  expressly  pun- 
ishable fov  official  malfeasance,  undisturbed  in  their  offices  and 
salaries.  For  if  the  victorious  party  is  to  signalize  its  acces- 
sion, won,  we  will  suppose,  on  the  promise  of  civil  service  re- 
form, by  expelling  all  the  office-holders  of  the  opposite  and  de- 
feated part3%  this  will  not  be  lo  inaugurate  the  whjlesome 
remedy,  but  only  to  repeat  the  abuse.  And  thus  they  would 
more  than  ever  ensure  at  the  next  turn  of  the  wheel  of  fortune 
that  their  reinstated  rivals  would  imitate  their  vindicative  ex- 
ample, turn  out  all  their  new  appointees  and  again  postpone 
the  happy  change.  Let  us  suppose,  for  example,  that  the  peo- 
ple should  again  elect  a  conservative  President  and  that  he 
should  not,  like  poor  Mr.  Tilden,  submit  at  the  bidding  of  Wall 
Street  to  the  robbery  of  himself  and  the  people  of  America,  but 
should  be  inaugurated;  shall  he  magnanimously  leave  every  ap- 
pointee, though  an  agent  or  a  tool  of  the  present  spoils  system, 
undisturbed?  Then  there  is  no  official  reward  for  his  support- 
ers who  have  toiled  for  his  election.  They  must  have  worked 
for  naught  but  an  idea,  a  prompting  of  pure  patriotism.  Whence 
is  the  money  to  come  to  wage  the  campaign  when  all  will  have 
been  notified  in  advance  that  there  will  be  no  way  for  them  to 
repay  themselves  out  of  the  public  crib?  It  is  well  known  that 
a  national  campaign  now  costs  as  much  as  a  military  one,  and 
that  money  is  to  it  as  essential  as  ''the  sinews  of  war."  Does 
any  party  in  America  possess  this  lofty  patriotism?  Will  eith- 
er party  thus  work  for  nothing?  But  let  us  suppose  that  the 
incoming  conservative  shall  make  a  pretext  that  the  office-hold- 
ers he  finds  in  place  have  been  there  as  "spoils-men,"  and  turn 
them  out  to  make  room  for  his  supporters;  then  the  inevitable 
result  is  that  the  opposing  party  will  denounce  him  as  a  traitor 
to  his  own  civil  service  reform,  and  devote  themselves  to  retalia- 
tion. Such  are  the  obstacles  which  beset  the  abatement  of  this 
peril  in  America.  "Canst  thou  draw  out  Leviatiian  with  a 
hook,  or  his  tongue  with  a  cord  which  thou  lettest  down?  Canst 
thou  put  a  hook  into  his  nose?" 

Such  are  the  fatal  influences  which  obstruct  all  return  and 
ensure  the  progress  of  the  revolution.  There  is  a  new  era  and 
hence  there  must  be  a  "New  South." 


16  THE    NEW     SOUTH. 

What  manner  of  thing  shall  it  be?  To  pragnosticate  or 
prophecy  is  not  the  prooer  part  for  us  to  phiy  who  fell  with 
the  old  South.  For  us  a  more  modest  part  is  appropriate.  We 
shall  claim  our  prerogative  forever  of  defending  our  own  prin- 
ciples, which  a  decadent  country  has  pronounced  too  elevated 
for  it  to  tolerate,  and  of  consulting  oui-  own  self-respect.  Jus- 
tice to  you  requires  that  we  shall  leave  y;)u  to  guide  your  own 
destiny  in  that  new  and  untried  sea  into  whicli  you  are  launcli- 
ing. 

But  there  are  some  principles  whicli  we  may  safely  incul- 
cate on  you,  because  whatever  else  may  change  these  cannot 
change.  The  glory  of  our  old  indei)en(lence  and  its  history.  \\\ii 
beneficence  of  the  confederate  principles  of  our  old  c  »nstitu- 
tion,  concurred  to  teach  us  an  exalted,  peihajts  an  overwean- 
ing  appreciation  of  the  value  of  sucli  political  institutions.  But 
we  do  not  forget  that  other  peaple  have  had  other  forms  of 
government,  aristocratic  or  regal,  and  under  them  liave  had 
their  share  of  the  domestic  virtues,  of  patriotism,  of  civilization, 
of  Christianity.  (But  under  the  illicit  and  dirty  oligarchy  of 
which  our  ])i"esent  regime  is  a  virtual  specimen,  no  pe3ple  has 
ever  had  or  can  ever  have  anything  but  corruption,  ignominy 
and  vice.)  Our  best  pra^'er  for  you  is.  that  out  of  the  present  foul 
transition,  a  good  Providence  may  cause  some  new  order  to 
arise  tr)leral)le  for  honest  men.  The  changes  implied  in  the  in- 
troduction of  this  new  order  may  be  accepted  by  the  old  con- 
federates as  old  age.  as  infirmity,  or  as  a  not  distant  death. 
They  must  be  accepted  by  me  as  the  inevitable.  But  the  prin- 
ciples of  ti-utli  and  rigliteousness  are  as  eternal  as  their  divine 
legislator.  These  must  be  uplield  under  all  dynasties  and  forms. 
Here,  in  one  word,  is  the  safe  pole-star  for  the  "New  South"'; 
let  them  adrjpt  the  scriptural  politics,  assured  that  they  will 
ever  be  as  true  and  just  under  any  new  regime  as  under  the 
one  that  has  passed  away:  "That  righteousness  exalteth  a 
nation,  but  sin  is  a  reproach  to  any  people."  That  "wisdom  and 
knowledge  shall  be  the  sta'bility  of  thy  times,  and  strength  of 
salvation;  the  fear  of  the  Lord  is  His  treasure.''  That  "he  that 
walketh  righteously  and  speaketh  uprightly;  he  that  despiseth 
ihe  gain  of  oppressions,  that  sliak(4h  his  hands  from  holding 
of  bribes,  that  stoppeth  his  ears  from    hearing  of  blood,  and 


THE  NEW  SOUTH.  17 

shutteth  his  eyes  from  beholding  evil;  he  shall  dwell  on  high; 
bis  place  of  defense  shall  be  the  munitions  of  rocks." 

Some  of  the  applications  of  these  unchanging  principles 
are  obvious  to  experience  guided  by  truth.  Permit  me  briefly 
to  unfold  three  of  these  to  you,  which  are  shown  to  be  timely 
and  momentous  by  the  special  temptations  to  which  a  subju- 
gated people  are  exposed  while  passing  of  necessity  under  a 
new  and  conquering  system.  One  of  these  plausible  tempta- 
tions is  to  conclude  that  the  surest  way  to  retrieve  your  pros- 
perity will  be  to  BECOME  LIKE  THE  CONQUERORS.  Tliis  is  an  in- 
ference as  false  as  it  is  specious;  the  fact  that  your  fathers  are 
conquered  may  ground  a  good  inference  perhaps,  that  you 
should  seek  to  be  in  some  respect^ unlike  us.  May  you  be  un- 
like us  in  being  more  fortunate  I  But  a  very  brief  observation 
of  history  will  teach  you  that  violent  aggressors,  in  overthrow- 
ing their  rivals,  also  usually  prepare  their  own  overthrow.  Their 
calamities  are  only  postponed  to  the  second  place.  The  Jacob- 
ins overthrew  Louis  XVI.,  but  Bonaparte  crushed  the  Jacobins, 
and  Europe  crushed  Napoleon.  Shall  this  be  the  best  reparation 
for  the  miseries  of  the  fall  of  the  Confederacy;  that  you  shall 
share,  for  a  few  deceitful  days,  the  victors'  gains  of  oppression, 
to  be  overwhelmed  along  with  him  in  his  approaching  retribu- 
tion? Be  sure  of  one  thing,  "his  curses  will  come  home  to 
roost."  In  order  to  escape  the  fearful  reckoning,  you  must 
not  only  make  yourselves  unlike  as  but  unlike  them. 

"The  North  triumphed  by  its  wealth."  Here  is  the  tempta- 
tion to  the  New  South,  to  which  I  already  see  ominous  sympt- 
oms of  yielding,  to  make  wealth  the  idol,  the  all  in  all  of  sec- 
tional greatness.  I  hear  our  young  men  quote  to  each  other 
the  advice  of  the  wily  diplomat  Gorstchacoff,  to  the  beaten 
French:  ''Be  strong."  They  exclaim:  Let  us  develope!  de- 
velope!  develope!  Let  us  have,  like  our  conquerors,  great 
cities,  great  capitalists,  great  factories  and  commerce  and 
great  populations;  then  we  shall  cope  with  them. 

Now  here  is  a  path  which  will  require  of  you  the  nicest  dis- 
crimination, and  the  most  perspicacious  virtue  and  self-denial. 
On  the  one  hand  it  is  indisputable  that  under  our  modern,  ma- 
terial civilization,  wealth  is  an  essential  element  of  national 
greatness.     The  commonwealth  which  presents  a  sparse    and 


18  THE  NEW  SOTJTH. 

impoverrsiied  population,  in  competition  with  a  rich  and  popu- 
lous rival,  will  come  by  the  worse  in  spite  of  her  martial  vir- 
tues; and  may  make  her  account  to  be  dependent  and  subordin- 
ate. Hence  to  develope  the  South  is  one  of  the  plainest  duties 
of  patriotism.  To  increase  its  riches  is  one  way  to  increase  its 
power  of  self-proteetion.  And  a  knowledge,  and  hardy,  dili- 
gent practice  of  the  industries  of  production  are  among  the 
civic  virtues  which  it  behooves  the  New  South  to  cultivate.  So 
much  is  to  be  asserted  on  that  side. 

But  on  the  other  side  the  deduction  that  all  our  section  has 
to  do  is  to  imitate  the  conquering  section  in  that  one  of  its 
qualities  by  which  it  got  wealth;  to  make  the  appliances  of 
production  the  all  in  all;  to  exclaim  as  so  many  do  of  factories, 
and  mines,  and  banks,  and  stock  boards,  and  horse-powers  of 
steam,  and  patent  machines,  ''These  be  thy  gods,  O  Israeli'' 
This  would  be  a  deadly  mistake.  Does  not  history  teach  that 
^'wealth  is  the  sinews  of  war?"  jes,  not  seldom;  but  it  teaches 
at  least  as  often  that  wealth  and  material  civilization  have 
been  the  emasculators  of  nations  and  the  incitements  of  their 
enemies  at  once,  only  ensuring  the  deeper  destruction  for  the 
rich  and  cultivated  people.  Our  own  overthrow  is  near  at 
hand  to  teach  us  this  lesson,  for  we  were  the  richer  section  sub- 
jugated by  the  poorer,  which  was  shrewd  enough  to  hie  on  the 
pauper  proletaries  of  a  hungry  world  upon  our  wealth  as  their 
prey.  Ek)  some  of  you  exclaim:  "What,  the  South  the  richer 
section?''  Very  likely  many  of  you  are  already  so  indoctrinated 
in  that  tuition  of  lies,  against  which  I  shall  have  to  caution  you 
anon,  that  this  will  be  news  to  you.  Xevertheless  is  it  true: 
the  South  was  by  one-quarter  if  not  one-third,  the  richer  sec- 
tion, as  was  proved  by  the  stubborn  evidence  of  the  census  re- 
turns of  the  government  itself,  as  managed  by  our  enemies. 

The  wisdom  of  the  Xew  South,  then,  must  be  in  pursuing 
the  sharp  line  which  divides  the  neglect  from  the  idolatry  of 
riches.  If  they  be  pursued  as  an  end  instead  of  a  means,  they 
become  your  ruin  instead  of  your  deliverance.  If  riches  when 
acquired  are  employed  to  enervate  your  manhood  with  costly 
pomps  and  luxuries  instead  of  being  consecrated  to  the  noble 
uses  of  charity  and  public  spirit,  the  richer  the  New  South  be- 
comes the  weaker  she  will  be.    The  problem  you  have  to  learn 


THE  NKW  south.  i^ 

is  how  to  combine  the  possession  of  g^reat  wealth  with  the  per- 
sonal practice  of  simplicity,  hardilioid  and  self-sacritice.  That 
people  which  makes  seltish.  material  jiood  its  (xod,  is  doomed. 
In  this  world  of  sin  the  sjjirit  of  heroic  self-sacritice  is  the  es- 
sential condition  of  national  greatness  and  hapi)iness.  The 
only  sure  wealth  of  the  State  is  in  cultured,  heroic  men,  who 
intelligently  know  f^eir  duty  and  are  caLmly  prepared  to  sac- 
rifice all  else,  including  life,  to  maintain  the  right.  Well  then 
did  the  President  of  the  Confederacy  utter  these  golden  words, 
that  "the  spirit  of  self-sacrifice  is  the  crown  of  the  civic  vir- 
tues." I  know  that  there  is  a  generation,  "O,  how  lofty  are 
their  eyes  and  their  eyelids  lifted  up,"  who  boast  tliat  their 
cuteness  is  in  pursuing  the  "main  chance,"  and  who  flout  this 
virtue  of  disinterestedness  as  a  wealc  folly;  and  yet  for  lack  of 
this  virtue  their  prosperity  is  ever  perishing  and  their  material 
civilization  is  ever,  like  the  tawdry  pyrotechnics  of  some  popu- 
lar feast,  burning  out  its  own  splendors  into  ashes,  darkness 
and  a  villainous  stench  of  brimstone.  Tlie  New  South  then 
needs  wealtli,  but  it  also  needs  men,  high-minded  men.  unde- 
bauched  by  wealth,  who,  like  the  "high  privates"  of  the  Con- 
federate ranks,  shall  know  how  to  postpone  ease  and  the  de- 
lights of  culture  for  the  invincible  endurance  of  hardship  and 
danger. 

2.  Subjugation  presents  to  the  honorable  conquered  man 
another  alternative  of  temptations.  The  one  is  that  of  moral 
disgust,  prompting  him  to  turn  with  proud  disdain  from  all 
concern  with  public  affairs,  and  wrap  himself  like  a  hermit  in 
the  folds  of  his  own  self-respect.  It  is  to  the  best  natures  that 
this  is  most  alluring;  how  attractive  is  the  thought  'of  thus  eas- 
ing one's  infinite  disgusts?  How  plausible  the  argument  which 
says:  Let  those  who  have  by  fraud  or  force  usurped  the  helm 
bear  the  responsibility  of  wrecking  the  ship.  But  the  error  of 
this  resort  is  that  it  neglects  the  claims  of  patriotism  and  robs 
the  State,  in  the  moment  of  her  need,  of  the  virtues  and  facul- 
ties most  essential  to  her  deliverance.  These  unbending  spirits 
who  cannot  be  reconciled  to  disgrace  are  the  very  ones  that 
.can  now  be  least  spared.  To  conquer  the  burning  repugnance 
to  all  the  loathsome  incidents  of  misconception,  slimy  slander, 
corruption  and  ingratitude  with  which  one  must  meet  in  serv- 


20  THE  JvfEW  SOUTH. 

ing  a  state  under  the  eclipse  of  subjugation,  this  may  be  a 
cross  as  bitter  as  death.  But  how  many  of  our  noblest  and 
best  have  already  borne  the  cross  of  death  in  the  same  cause? 

The  alternative  temptation  is  yet  more  seductive  to  the 
more  supple  temperament.  This  is  to  exaggerate  and  pervert 
the  plea  of  acquiescence  in  the  inevitable;  to  cry,  "Oh  there  is 
no  use  nor  sense  in  cantending  against  fate,''  and  on  this  ar- 
gument to  act  the  trimmer  and  turncoat.  How  much  easier  is 
this  to  the  pliable  temper?  And  it  may  be,  how  profitable  to 
the  pocket.  It  is  so  sweet  a  relief  to  the  lassitude  which  such 
a  mind  experiences  at  being  ever  in  the  self-respecting  the 
righteous  and  the  unsuccessful  minority.  Ah,  how  tiresome  is 
it  to  such  a  man  to  hold  up  the  standard  of  principle  wiien  it  is 
unsustfiined  by  the  breeze  of  popularity!  Poor  soul,  how  his 
arms  ache,  and  how  do  they  crave  rest  in  the  ai^is  of  the  cor- 
rupt majority. 

But  even  by  the  light  of  that  policy,  which  such  men  make 
their  pole-star,  it  would  be  better,  while  recognizing  the  in- 
evitable, still  to  cleave  to  moral  consistency  and  principle.  For 
I  surmise  that  when  you  seek  a  market  for  your  capacities  in 
the  fonim  of  the  new  regime,  its  managers  will  tell  you  that 
turncoats  are  decidedly  a  drug  in  that  market.  The  demand  is 
utterly  overstocked,  the  market  glutted.  It  is  the  men  who 
have  convictions  and  who  cleave  to  them,  who  are  the  article 
in  demand;  in  demand  even  with  political  adversaries,  who, 
themselves,  have  no  principles.  For  such  men,  however  venal, 
soon  learn  the  truth  that  the  turncoat  who  could  not  be  trusted 
to  cleave  to  his  principles,  can  as  little  be  trusted  to  stick  to 
the  master  who  has  bought  him. 

3.  It  behooves  the  New  South,  in  dismissing  the  animosi- 
ties of  the  past,  to  see  to  it  that  they  retain  all  that  was  true 
in  its  principles  or  ennobling  in  its  example.  There  are  those 
pretending  to  belong  to  this  company  who  exclaim:  ''Let  us 
bury  the  dead  past.  Its  issues  are  all  antiquated,  and  of  no 
more  practical  significance.  Let  us  forget  the  passions  of  the 
past.  We  are  in  a  new  world.  Its  new  questions  alone  concern 
us."  I  rejoin:  Be  sure  that  the  former  issues  are  really  dead 
before  you  bury  them!  There  are  issues  which  cannot  die 
without  the  death  of  the  people,  of  their  honor,  their  civiliza- 


TllK  NEW  SOUTH.  21 

tion  and  their  greatness.  Take  care  that  you  do  not  bury  too 
much,  while  burying  the  dead  past:  that  3'OU  do  not  bury  the 
inspiring  memories  of  great  patriots,  whose  actions,  whether 
successful  or  not,  are  the  eternal  glor}'  of  your  race  and  section ; 
the  influence  of  their  virtues,  the  guiding  precedents  of  their 
histories.  Will  you  bury  the  names  and  memories  of  a  Jackson 
and  Lee,  and  their  noble  army  of  martyrs?  Will  you  bury  true 
history  whose  years  are  those  of  the  God  of  Truth? 

There  is  one  point  on  which  you  insist  too  little,  which  is 
vital  to  the  young  citizens  of  the  South.  This  is,  that  he  shall 
not  allow  the  dominant  party  to  teacli  him  a  perverted  history 
of  the  past  contests.  This  is  a  mistake  of  which  you  are  in  im- 
minent peril.  With  all  the  astute  activity  of  their  race,  our 
conquerors  strain  every  nerve  to  preoccupy  the  ears  of  all 
America  with  the  false  version  of  affairs  which  suits  the  pur- 
poses of  their  usurpation.  With  a  gigantic  sweep  of  mendacity, 
this  literature  aims  to  falsify  or  misrepresent  everything;  the 
very  facts  of  history,  the  principles  of  the  former  Constitution 
as  admitted  in  the  days  of  freedom  by  all  statesmen  of  all  par- 
ties; the  characters  and  motives  of  our  patriots;  the  i)urposes 
of  parties;  the  very  essential  names  of  rights  and  virtues  and 
vices.  The  whole  sway  of  their  commercial  and  political  ascen- 
dancy is  exerted  to  fill  the  South  with  this  false  literature.  Its 
sheets  come  up,  like  the  frogs  of  Egypt,  into  our  houses,  our 
bed  chambers,  our  very  kneading  troughs.  Now,  against  this 
deluge  of  perversions  I  solemnly  warn  young  men  of  the  South, 
not  for  our  sakes,  but  for  their  own.  Even  if  the  memory  of 
the  defeated  had  no  rights;  if  historical  trutli  had  no  preroga- 
tives; if  it  were  the  same  to  you  that  the  sires  wliose  blood  fills 
your  veins,  and  whose  names  you  bear,  be  written  down  as 
traitors  by  the  pen  of  slanderous  history,  still  it  is  essential  to 
your  own  future  that  you  shall  learn  the  history  of  the  past 
truly.  For  the  institutions  which  are  to  be,  however  unlike 
those  wliich  have  been,  must  have  a  causal  relation  to  them: 
must  be  in  some  sense  the  progeny  of  them.  The  chrysalis  is 
very  unlike  its  progeny,  but  none  the  less  its  traits  determine 
those  of  tlte  gorgeous  butterfly.  The  acorn  is  not  like  a  tree, 
yet  its  s])ecies  determines  the  shape  and  qualities  of  the  mon- 
arch of  the  forest.     To-morrovv''s  configuralion  of  the  planets 


22  THE  NEAV  SOUTH. 

may  be  very  dissimilar  from  that  of  to-day,  but  it  will  be  rigid- 
ly couseqiiential  thereon.  Hence  the  astronomer  who  miscon- 
ceives and  mi.sstates  the  positions  of  the  jrbs  to-day.  must  in- 
evitably err  in  his  prediction  of  their  conjunctions  to-morrow. 
So  if  public  men  will  gratify  their  spite,  or  revenge,  or  lust  of 
sectional  power  by  misrepresenting  the  late  events,  they  there- 
by condemn  themselves  t3  fatal  bluiiderings  and  mistakes  in 
prognosticating  that  future  which  can  only  be  the  caused  se- 
quel Li)  this.  If  you  w^ould  not  be  mere  blunderers  in  your  new 
constructions,  then  you  must  understand  aright  the  structure 
of  those  recent  actions  on  which  they  must  found  themselves. 
You  will  seek  to  learn  them,  not  from  a  Greeley  or  a  Henry 
Wilson,  but  from  a  Stephens  and  a  Davis.  While  yoti  do  not 
allow  your  judg^'ment  to  be  hoodwinked  by  even  the  possible  ex- 
aggerations of  our  own  patriots,  still  less  will  you  yield  your 
minds  to  the  malignant  fables  of  those  partisans  wlio  think 
they  can  construct  history  as  unscrupulously  as  a  political  ring. 
Our  age  presents  the  strange  instance  of  a  numerous  party, 
who  think  they  can  circumvent  the  resistless  forces  of  truth  by 
^systematically  misnaming  facts  and  fallacies,  who  are  deliber- 
ately building  a  whole  system  of  empire  on  the  substitution  of 
light  for  darkness  and  darkness  for  light,  of  good  for  evil  and 
evil  for  good,  calling  that  master  in  our  government  which  was 
servant,  that  patriotism  which  was  treason,  and  that  treason 
which  was  true,  law-preserving  patriotism,  and  that  aggres- 
sion which  was  righteous  defense.  If  you  wish  to  be  buried 
deeper  than  thrice  buried  Troy  beneath  the  final  m:)untains  of 
both  defeat  and  shame,  go  with  these  architects  of  detraction. 
They  are  but  arraying  themselves  against  that  unchangeable 
God  who  has  said:  ''The  lying  tongue  is  but  for  a  moment,  but 
,ihe  lip  of  truth  shall  be  established  forever." 

I  have  admitted,  young  gentlemen,  that  constitutions  and 
laws  may  change,  but  honor,  justice  and  right  are  immutable. 
Be  loyal  to  these  in  all  novel  emergencies,  and  you  will  act 
safely.  If  this  virtue,  the  foundation  of  all  the  civic,  exists  in 
you,  it  will,  it  must  manifest  itself  most  plainly  in  reverence 
and  enthusiasm  for  the  heroic  and  the  self-sacrificing  of  your 
own  people  and  State.  Their  actions  have  placed  the  right  be- 
fore you  incorporate'.   >vith  all  the  definiteness  of  outline  and 


THE  NEW  SOUTH.  23 

vividness  of  coloring  which  belong-  to  concrete  realities.  Their 
actions  concern  your  hearts  by  virtue  of  all  the  ties  of  neighbor- 
hood and  patriotism.  As  long  as  the  hearts  of  the  New  South 
thrill  with  the  generous  though  defeated  endurance  of  the  men 
of  1861;  as  long  as  they  cherish  these  martyrs  of  constitutional 
liberty  as  the  glory  of  their  Stare  and  its  history,  you  will  be 
safe  from  any  base  decadence.  If  the  generation  that  is  to 
come  ever  learns  to  be  ashamed  of  these  men  because  they  were 
overpowered  by  fate,  that  will  be  the  moral  death  of  Virginia, 
a  death  on  which  there  will  wait  no  resurrection.  But  I  do  nor 
fear  this. 

I  recall  what  my  own  eyes  witnessed  at  the  last  great  civic 
pomp  in  which  I  was  present.  This  was  the  installment  of  that 
statue  of  Jackson  near  3ur  State  capitol,  which  Virginia  re- 
ceived as  the  tribute  of  British  statesmanship  and  culture  to 
her  illustrious  dead.  At  this  ceremonial  there  were  gathered 
almost  the  whole  intelligence  and  beauty  of  what  was  left  of 
tile  old  commonwealth.  As  the  long  processiau  wound  through 
the  streets  marshaled  and  headed  by  General  Joseph  E.  John- 
ston, under  the  mild  glory  of  our  October  sun,  while  the  at- 
mosphere was  palpitating  with  military  music  and  the  whole 
city  was  gone  upjn  its  house-tops,  it  was  easy  to  pen-eive  that 
all  eyes  and  all  hearts  were  centering  upon  one  sole  part  of  the 
pageant,  and  this  was  not  the  illustrious  figure  that  headed  it, 
the  commander  in  so  many  historical  battles,  bestriding  his 
charter  with  his  inimitable  martial  grace;  nor  was  it  the  clus- 
ter containing  the  remnant  of  Jackson's  statf.  We  might  have 
supposL'd  that  we  would  receive  some  reflected  distinction  from 
the  luminary  to  which  we  had  been  satellites  so  near,  and  that 
some  romantic  curiosity  might  direct  itself  to  those  who  had 
habitually  seen  him  under  fire,  heard,  and  borne  those  orders 
which  had  decided  memorable  victories,  and  bivouacked  under 
the  same  blanket  with  him;  but  no  eye  sought  us.  Then  came 
hobbling  a  company  of  two  hundred  and  thirty  grizzled  men 
with  empty  sleeves,  and  wooden  legs,  and  scarred  faces,  and 
hands  twisted  into  every  distortion  which  the  fiery  fancy  of  the 
rifle-ball  could  invent,  clad  in  the  rough  garb  of  a  laboring 
yeomanry,  their  faces  bronzed  with  homely  toil:  this  was  the 
company  for  which  every  eye  waited,  and  as     it     passed  the 


24  THE  NEW  SOUTH. 

mighty  tlirono;  was  moved  as  the  trees  of  the  forest  are  moved 
by  the  wind,  the  multitudinous  white  arms  waved  their  superb 
welcome,  and  the  thundering  cheer  rolled  with  the  column  from 
end  to  end  of  the  great  city.  It  was  the  remnant  of  the  Stone- 
wall Brigade  I  That  was  the  explanation.  This  wa.><  the  tribute 
which  the  sons,  the  daughters,  the  mothers  of  Virginia  paid 
to -sturdy  heroism  in  defent  And  as  I  saw  this  my  heart  said 
with  an  exultant  bound.  "There  is  life  in  the  old  land  yet!" 


TO  MAJOR  GENERAL  HOWARD." 

Chief  of  the  Freedmen's  Bureau,  Wasliiiin^foii. 

Sir:  Your  high  official  trust  makes  you,  in  a  certain  sense, 
the  representative  man  of  the  Xarth,  as  concerns  their  dealing 
with  the  African  race  in  these  Ignited  States.  It  is  as  sucli  that 
I  venture  to  address  you,  and  through  you  all  your  fellov 
citizens  on  behalf  of  this  recently  liberated  people.  My  pur- 
pose is  humbly  to  remind  you  of  your  weighty  charge,  and  to 
encourage  you  to  go  forward  with  an  enlarged  philanthropy 
and  zeal  in  that  career  of  beneficence  toward  the  African  which 
Providence  has  opened  before  you.  Rarely  has  it  fallen  to  the 
lot  of  one  of  the  sons  of  men  to  receive  a  larger  trust,  or  to  en- 
joy a  wider  opportunity  for  doing  good.  At  the  beginning  of 
the  late  w\ar  there  were  in  the  South  nearly  four  millions  of 
Africans.  All  these,  a  nation  in  numbers,  now  taken  from 
their  former  guardians,  are  laid  upon  the  hands  of  that  govern- 
ment of  which  you  are  the  special  agent  for  their  protection 
and  guidance.  To  this  nation  of  black  people  you  are  virtually 
father  and  king;  your  powers  for  their  management  are  unlimit- 
ed, and  for  assisting  their  needs  you  have  the  resources  of  the 
"greatest  people  on  eartli."  Your  action  for  the  freedmen's 
good  is  restrained  by  no  constitution  or  precedents,  but  the 
powers  yon  exercise  for  them  are  as  full  as  your  office  is  novel. 
We  see  evidence  of  this  in  the  fact  that  your  agents,  acting  for 
the  good  of  your  charge,  can  seize  by  military  arrest  any  one  of 
their  fellow-citizens  of  African  descent,  for  no  other  offense 
than  being  unemployed,  convey  him  without  his  consent,  and 
without  the  company  of  his  wife  and  family,  to  a  distant  field 
of  industry,  where  he  is  compelled  to  wholesome  labor  for  such 
remuneration  as  you  may  be  pleased  to  assign.  Another  evi- 
dence is  seen  in  your  late  order,  transferring  all  causes  and  in- 
dictments in  which  a  freedman  is  a  party,  from  the  courts  of 
law  of  the  Southern  States  to  the  bar  of  your  own  commission- 

1 Appeared  in  New  York  Weekly  News,  Oct.  21,  1865.  25 


26  MAJOK  GEJ>iEEAL  HOWARD. 

ers  and  .siib-cuinmissiunei's  for  adjudication.  I  beg  you  to  be- 
lieve that  these  iustanc-es  are  not  cited  bv  me  for  the  puppase  of 
repeating  tlie  cavils  against  the  justice  and  consistency  of  the 
powers  exercised  in  them,  in  which  some  have  been  heard  to 
indulge.  My  purpose  is  not  to  urge  with  them  that  there  is  no 
law  by  which  a  free  citizen  can  be  riglitfully  abridged  <of  his 
liberty  of  enjoying  the  otium  cuf?i  dignitate  so  long  as  he  ab- 
stains fram  crime  or  misdemeanor  therein,  merely  because  he 
wears  a  black  skin,  while  the  same  government  does  not  pre- 
sume to  interfere  with  the  exercise  of  this  privilege  by  his 
white  fellow-citizens,  even  though  they  be  those  lately  in  rebel- 
lion against  it;  tliat  this  military  arrest  and  transferrence  to 
the  useful  though  distant  scene  of  compulsory  labor,  is  precise- 
ly that  penalty  of  "transportatijn"  which  Southern  laws  never 
inflicted,  even  on  the  slave,  except  for  crime  and  after  judicial 
investigation;  that  these  commissioners  for  adjudicating  cases 
to  which  freedmen  are  parties,  are  in  reality  judges  at  law,  ap- 
pointed by  you,  for  every  city  and  county  in  eleven  States,  and 
empowered  to  sit  without  jury,  and  to  decide  withaut  regard  to 
the  precedents  or  statutes  of  the  States;  which  would  exhibit 
3'our  bureau  as  not  only  an  executive,  but  a  judicial  branch  of 
the  government,  established  without  constitutional  authority, 
and  that  a  hundred  fold  more  pervasive  in  its  jurisdiction  than 
the  Supreme  Court  itself;  and  that  this  "order"'  has,  by  one 
stroke  of  your  potent  pen,  deprived  eight  millions  of  white 
people  of  the  right  of  a  trial  by  jury,  guaranteed  to  them  by 
the  sixth  and  seventh  additional  articles  of  the  United  States 
Coustituti3n,  in  every  case  where  a  freedman  happens  to  be  a 
party  against  them.  I  repeat,  that  I  have  not  adduced  these 
instances  for  the  purpose  of  urging  these  or  such  like  objec- 
tions; (it  does  not  become  the  subject  to  cavil  against  the  pow- 
ers exercised  by  his  conquerors),  but  only  to  impress  you  with 
the  obligation,  which  the  fullness  of  your  powers  brings  upon 
you,  to  do  good  to  your  charge  upon  a  great  scale. 

I  cannot  believe  that  means  will  be  lacking  to  you  any 
more  than  powers.  At  your  back  stands  the  great,  the  power- 
ful, the  rich,  the  prosperous,  the  philanthropic,  the  Christian 
Xorth,  friend  and  liberator  of  the  black  man.  It  must  be  as- 
sumed that  the  zeal  which  waged  a  gigantic  war  for  four  years, 


MAJOR  GEN^ERAL  HOWARD.  27 

wliicli  expended  three  thousand  million  of  dollars,  and  one  mil- 
lion of  lives,  in  large  part  to  free  the  African,  will  be  willing  to 
lavish  anything  else  which  may  be  needed  for  his  welfare.  And 
if  the  will  is  present,  the  ability  is  no  less  abundant  among  a 
people  so  wealthy  and  powerful,  who  exhibit  the  unprecedented 
spectacle  of  an  emersion  from  a  war  which  would  have  been 
exliausting  to  any  other  people  with  resources  larger  than 
when  they  began  it,  and  who  have  found  out  (what  all  previous 
statesmen  deemed  an  impossibility),  that  the  public  wealth 
nia}'  be  actually  increased  by  unproductive  consumption.  With 
full  powers  and  means  to  do  everything  for  the  African,  what 
may  he  not  expect  from  your  guardianship? 

The  answer  which  a  generous  and  humane  heart  would 
nuike  to  this  question,  must  of  course  be  this:  that  it  would  seek 
to  do  for  the  good  of  its  charge  everything  7vhich  is  possible. 
But  more  definitely  I  wish  to  remind  you  that  there  is  a  mini- 
mum limit,  which  the  circumstances  of  the  ease  forbid  you  to 
touch.  Common  sense,  common  justice  says:  that  the  very 
least  you  can  do  for  them  must  be  more  than  the  South  has 
accomplished,  from  wliose  tutelage  they  have  been  taken.  To 
this  measure,  at  least,  if  not  to  some  higher,  your  country,  pos- 
terity, fame,  and  the  righteous  heavens,  will  rigidly  hold  you. 
The  reason  is  almost  too  plain  to  be  explained.  If  a  change 
procured  for  the  Africans  at  sucli  a  cost  brings  them  no  actual 
benefit,  then  that  cost  is  uncompensated,  and  the  expenditure 
of  human  weal  which  has  been  made  was  a  blunder  and  a 
crime.  Thus  it  becomes  manifest  that  the  measure  for  the 
task  which  you  have  before  you,  is  the  work  which  the  South 
accomplished  for  the  negro  while  he  was  a  slave.  The  ques- 
tion, how  much  was  this?  is  a  vital  one  for  you;  it  gives  you 
your  starting  i»oint  from  whicli  you  must  advance  in  your 
career  of  progressive  philanthropy.     Listen  then. 

First,  for  the  physical  welfare  of  the  negro  the  South  has 
done  something.  A  rapid  increase  of  population  and  longevity 
are  a  safe  index  of  the  prosperous  and  sane  condition  of  the 
bodies  of  a  people.  The  South  has  so  provided  for  the  wants 
of  the  negro  that  his  numbers  have  doubled  themselves  as  rap- 
idly as  those  of  the  whites,  with  no  accessions  by  immigration. 
The  census  returns  show  that  the  South  so  cared  for  him  that 


28  MAJOR  GENERAL  HOWARD. 

the  percentage  of  congenital  defects  and  diseases,  these  unfail- 
ing revealers  of  a  depressed  physical  condition,  idioc}',  blind- 
ness, deafness,  dumbness,  hereditary  scrofula,  and  such  like 
ills,  was  as  small  as  among  the  most  prosperous  Northern 
States.  The  South  gave  to  her  negro  men,  on  an  average,  a  half 
pound  of  bacon  and  three  pounds  of  breadstuffs  per  day,  be- 
sides his  share  in  the  products  of  his  master's  kitchen-garden, 
dairy  and  orchard;  and  to  the  women  and  children  at  a  rate 
equally  liberal.  If,  in  some  neighborhoods,  the  supply  was 
less  bountiful  than  the  above,  there  were  a  hundred  fold  more 
in  which  it  was  even  more  abundant.  The  South  gave  ta  every 
negro,  great  and  small,  a  pair  of  shoes  every  winter,  and  to  the 
laboring  men  an  additional  pair  at  harvest.  She  clothed  them 
all  with  a  substantial  suit  of  woolens  every  winter,  an  addition- 
al suit  of  cotton  or  flax  eacli  summer,  and  tw-^  shirts  and  two 
pair  of  socks  per  year,  while  the  adults  drew  their  hat  and 
blanket  each.  She  furnished  each  negro  family  with  a  sepa- 
rate cottage  or  cabin,  and,  during  the  severe  weather,  with 
about  one-third  of  a  cord  of  wood  per  day,  to  keep  up  those  lib- 
eral fires  on  which  his  health  and  life  so  much  depend.  She 
provided,  universally,  such  relief  for  his  sickness  that  every 
case  of  serious  disease  was  attended  by  a  physician  with  nearly 
the  same  promptitude  and  frequency  as  the  cases  of  the  plan- 
ters' own  ^ives  and  daughters;  and  in  all  the  land  never  was 
a  negro  fastened  to  his  bed  by  illness  but'  he  received  the  per- 
sonal, sympathizing  visits  of  some  intelligent  white  person  be- 
sides; master,  mistress  or  their  agent,  who  never  went  to  his 
couch  empty-handed.  His  dead  universally  received  decent 
and  Christian  burial,  where  the  bereaved  survivors  were  sooth- 
ed by  the  oflQces  of  Christianity.  The  South  so  shielded  the 
negro  against  destitution,  that  from  the  Potomac  to  the  Gulf, 
not  one  negro  pauper  was  ever  seen,  unless  he  were  free,  and 
not  one  African  poorhouse  existed  or  was  needed.  Her  system 
secured  for  every  slave,  male  or  female,  a  legal  claim  upon  the 
whole  property,  income,  and  personal  labor  of  his  master,  for  a 
comfortable  maintenance  during  any  season  of  infirmity 
brought  upon  him  by  old  age,  the  visitation  of  God.  or  his  own 
imprudence,  however  protracted  that  season  might  be:  a  claim 
so  sure  and  definite  that  it  could  be  pursued  by  an  action  at  law 


MAJOR  GENERAL  HOWARD.  29 

upon  the  slave's  behalf;  a  claim  so  universally  enforced  and  ac 
quiesced  in,  that  its  neglect,  or  the  death  of  a  helpless  slave 
through  destitution,  was  as  completely  unknown  among  us  as 
cannibalism.  The  South  met  that  claim,  which  the  free  labor- 
ing men  of  other  lands  have  so  often  had  sorrowful  occasion  to 
argue,  amid  pallid  famine,  and  with  the  fearful  logic  of  insur- 
rections and  bloodshed,  the  claim  of  "tlie  right  to  labor,"  and 
has  met  it  so  successfully  that  she  has  secured  to  every  African 
slave  capable  of  labor,  without  even  one  exception  among  all 
her  millions,  remunerative  occupation,  at  all  times,  and  amid 
all  financial  convulsions  and  depressions  of  business.  That  is, 
she  has  found  at  all  times  such  occupation  for  all  of  them  as 
has  procured  for  them,  without  excessive  toil,  a  decent  nminten- 
ance  during  their  active  years,  an  adequate  and  unfailing  pro- 
vision for  old  age,  a  portion  for  their  widows,  and  a  rearing  of 
their  children.  The  South  has  so  far  performed  these  duties 
to  the  bodies  of  the  Africans  that  no  community  of  them  havi^ 
ever,  in  a  single  instance,  amid  any  war,  or  blight,  or  drouth, 
or  dearth,  felt  the  tooth  of  famine  on  its  vitals,  or  so  much  as 
seen  the  wolf,  destitution,  at  its  door. 

For  tlie  culture  of  the  negro's  mind  and  character,  the 
South  has  also  done  something.  She  has  not,  indeed,  fallen  in- 
to the  hallucination  that  the  only  processes  of  education  are 
those  summed  up  in  the  arts  of  reading  and  writing — facts 
which  were  not  prevalent  among  those  literary  dictators  of  the 
ancient  world,  the  compatriots  of  Pericles  and  Plato — nor  has 
she  deemed  it  a  likely  mode  to  communicate  these  useful  arts 
to  the  ebony  youth,  to  gather  three  hundred  of  them  into  one 
pandemonium,  under  a  single  overtasked  ''school-marm"  or 
bald-pated  negro,  and  dub  the  seething  cauldron  of  noise,  con- 
fusion and  "negro-gen  gas,''  a  "primary  school.''  But  thou- 
sands and  tens  of  thousands  has  she  taught  to  read  (and  of- 
fered the  art  to  ten-fold  more,  who  declined  it  from  their  own 
indolence),  through  the  gentle  and  faithful  agency  of  cultivat- 
ed young  masters  and  mistresses,  a  process  prohibited.  I  boldly 
assert,  quicunque  vult  by  no  law  upon  the  statute-book  of  my 
State,  at  least.  But  this  tuition,  extensive  as  it  has  been,  is 
the  merest  atom  and  mite,  in  the  extensive  culture  which  she 
has  given  to  the  African  race.    She  received  them  at  the  hands 


80  MAJOR  GENERAL  HOWARD. 

oi:  British  and  Yanlvee  slave  nadei-s,  besotted  in  their  prime- 
val jungles,  for  the  spontaneous  fruits  of  which  they  lived  in 
common.  Slie  taught  the  whole  of  tliem  some  rudiments  of 
civilization.  She  taught  them  all  the  English  language,  a  gift 
whieli,  had  they  been  introduced  intj  the  Northern  States  as 
free  men,  in  numbers  so  large,  they  would  not  have  received  in 
three  centuries.  She  taught  all  of  them  some  arts  of  useful  la- 
bor, and  as  large  a  portion  of  them  as  any  other  peasantry  learn- 
ed the  mechanical  arts.  With  the  comparatively  small  excep- 
tion of  the  negroes  upan  large  estates,  belonging  to  non-resi- 
dent owners,  the  South  has  placed  every  negro  bo^'  and  girl, 
during  his  or  her  growth,  under  the  forming  influence  of  white 
men  and  ladies,  by  whom  tliey  have  been  taught  some  little 
tinctures  of  the  cleanliness,  the  decencies,  the  chastity,  the 
truthfulness,  the  self-respect,  so  utterly  alien  to  their  former 
savage  condition,  and  a  share  of  courtes}'  and  good  breeding 
which  would  not  disgrace  any  civilized  people.  Of  the  young 
negresses,  who  would  otherwise  have  grown  up  the  besotted 
victims  of  brutal  passions,  the  great  majority  have  been,  at 
some  stage  of  their  training,  introduced  by  the  South  to  the 
parlors  and  chambers  of  their  women,  from  wham  they  have 
learned  to  revere  and  imitate,  to  some  degree,  that  grace  and 
purity,  that  sweet  humanity  and  delicacy  of  sentiment  which 
glorify  the  Southern  lady  above  all  her  sex;  and  under  her 
watchful  and  kindly  eye.  has  her  dark-skinned  sister  been 
taught  the  agencies  and  domestic  arts  which  make  woman  a 
•blessing  in  her  home.  The  boys  and  youths,  by  the  same  in- 
fluences, have  become  the  humble,  yet  affectionate,  compan- 
ions of  their  masters,  and  have  imbibed  some  of  their  intelli- 
gence and  principle.  Herein  was  the  great  educational  work 
of  the  South,  potent  and  persuasive  as  it  was  simple.  By  her 
system,  every  man  and  woman  of  the  superior  race,  yea,  every 
child,  was  enlisted  in  the  work  of  the  culture  of  the  inferior, 
and  the  whole  business  of  domestic  life  was  converted,  by  inter- 
est and  affection  alike,  into  a  schooling  of  the  mind  and  char- 
acter. 

This  culture  has  been  so  far  successful  that  the  African 
race,  lately  rude  savages,  was  raised  to  such  a  grade  that,  ac- 
cording to  high  military  authority  in  the  United  States,  they 


Major  gisneral  Howard.  31 

were  flt  to  make  armies  as  efficient  as  those  recruited  in  lav 
"great,  free  aud  enlightened  North";  and  in  the  judgrment  of  a 
powerful  party  in  that  country  (a  party  which  embraces  the 
major  part  of  that  particular  corner  which  has  the  prescrip- 
tive right  of  knowing  everything),  they  have  been  made,  under 
Southern  tutelage,  fully  equal  to  the  rights  and  duties  of  voters 
and  rulers,  in  the  most  complicated  of  governments.  Now, 
fe'eling  that  it  does  not  become  a  subject  of  that  government, 
one  recently  conquered  by  the  great  North,  to  dispute  its  dt'cfa 
on  these  points,  I  shall  of  course  assume  that  they  are  correct. 
Here,  then,  is  what  the  Soutli  has  done  for  the  development  of 
the  negro's  mind. 

Nor  has  our  section  neglected  that  noblest  and  highest  in- 
terest of  all  races,  the  spiritual  interest  of  the  negro.  She  has 
diffused  among  the  blacks  a  pure  gospel.  She  gave  him  the 
Christian  Sabbath,  and  fortified  the  gift  with  laws  and  penal- 
ties, capable  of  being  executed  in  his  behalf  against  his  dwu 
master — laws  so  efficacious  that  enforced  Sabbath  labor  was 
almost  utterly  unknown  to  him.  She  gave  him  a  part  in  every 
house  of  worship  built  throughout  her  border  (for  never  have 
I  heard  of  one  church  in  all  these  States  where  the  slaves  were 
not  admitted  along  with  their  masters),  besides  building  more 
tem})les  for  his  exclusive  use  than  the  Christianity  of  the  Nortli 
has  built  for  Pagans,  in  all  Hiudostan  and  China  together.  She 
has  given  him  evangelical  preaching,  unmingied  with  the  poi- 
son of  I'niversalism,  Millerism,  Socinianism,  Mormonism,  or 
with  the  foreign  and  disastrous  element  of  politics.  Far  nearly 
all  the  church-members  of  tliis  people  are  connected  witli  the 
great  orthodox  and  evangelical  denominations;  and  having 
been  a  preacher  to  Africans  for  twenty  years,  I  have  never  yet 
heard  a  sermon  addressed  to  them,  or  heard  of  the  man  who 
had  heard  it,  in  which  the  subject  of  abolition  or  pro-slavery 
was  obtruded  on  their  attention  by  a  Southern  minister.  In 
one  word,  the  South  has  so  far  cared  for  their  souls  as  to  bring 
five  hundred  thousand  of  them  into  the  full  communion  of  the 
church,  thus  making  them  at  least  outward  and  professed 
Christians — a  ratio  as  large  as  that  prevailing  among  the  whites 
of  the  great.  Christian  North. 

These  facts  concerning  the  work  of  the  South     for     the 


32  MAJOR  GENERAL  HOWARD. 

slaves,  I  give  without  tlie  fear  of  contradiction.  The  son  of  a 
shiveholder,  an  owner  of  slaves  by  inheritance,  reared  and  ed- 
ucated among-  tliem,  laboring  for  them  and  their  masters  all 
my  professional  life,  I  know  whereof  I  affirm.  Every  intelli- 
gent citizen  of  tlie  .S3uth  will  substantiate  these  statements, 
as  within  the  limits  of  moderation,  and  as  only  a  part  of  those 
which  might  be  made. 

When  I  claim  that  the  South  did  thus  much  for  the  Afrt- 
cans,  I  am  far  from  boasting.  We  ought  to  have  done  much 
more.  Instead  of  pjiuting  to  it  with  self-laudation,  it  becomes 
us,  with  profound  humility  towards  (lod,  to  confess  our  short- 
comings towards  our  servants.  He  has  been  pleased,  in  His 
sovereign  and  fearful  dispensation,  to  lay  upon  us  a  grievous 
atfiiction,  and  we  know  He  is  too  just  to  do  this  except  for  our 
sins.  While  I  am  as  certain  as  the  sure  word  of  Scripture  can 
make  me  concerning  any  principle  of  social  duty,  that  there 
was  nothing  sinful  in  the  relation  of  master  and  slave  itself,  I 
can  easily  believe  that  our  failure  to  fulfill  some  of  the  duties 
of  that  righteous  relation  is  among  the  sins  for  which  God's 
hand  now  makes  us  smart.  And  it  does  not  become  those  who 
are  under  His  discipline  to  boast  of  their  good  works.  No; 
verily  we  have  sinned;  my  argument  is  that  you  must  do  more 
for  the  negro  than  we  sinners  of  the  South  have  done. 

[  have  written  wittingly-  the  words,  yov.  must  do  it  for 
them.  The  South  cannot.  Your  people  have  effectually  dis- 
abled them  therefor.  They  have  done  so  by  taking  away  our 
wealth.  The  South  is  almost  utterly  impoverished,  and  is  able 
to  do  little  more  than  to  keep  destitution  from  her  own  doors. 
But  a  more  conclusive  reason  is  the  alienation  which  the  armed 
and  clerical  missionaries  of  the  North  have  inculcated  in  the 
breasts  of  these  people,  lately  so  atfectionate  and  contented. 
The  negroes  have  been  diligently  taught  that  their  masters 
were  their  enemies  and  oppressors,  that  their  bondage  was 
wicked  and  destructive  of  their  well-being,  and  especially  that 
tlie  religious  teachings  of  all  Southern  ministers  were  ''doc- 
trines of  devils,"  because  they  would  not  shout  the  shibboleth 
of  abolition.  The  consequence  is  that  the  black  race  will  no 
longer  listen  to  the  Southern  i)eople,  or  be  guided  by  them. 
Take  as  evidence  my  own  instance,  which  I  cite  precisely  for 


MAJOR   OENKRaL  HOWARD.  33 

the  reason  that  it  is  not  in  the  least  peculiar,  but  reflects  the 
conimou  experience  of  all  ministers  and  people  here.  Before 
the  advent  of  your  armies,  plantation  meetings  were  held  week- 
ly in  the  ditferent  quarters  of  the  congregation,  on  Saturdays, 
in  working  time,  cheerfully  surrendered  by  the  masters  for  that 
purpose,  which  brought  religious  instruction  within  two  or 
three  miles  of  every  house.  They  are  now  all  at  an  end.  Six 
years  ago  my  congregation  pulled  down  the  substantial  house, 
built  by  their  fathers  only  thirry  years  before,  with  walls  as 
solid  as  living  rocks,  which  was  entirely  adequate  to  hold  the 
whites,  and  replaced  it  by  a  larger.  One  prominent  reason  was 
that  it  was  not  large  enough  to  hold  the  servants  also.  They 
constructed  in  the  new  house  three  hundred  commodious  sit- 
tings exclusively  for  the  blacks.  Last  Sabbath,  under  a  bright 
and  cheerful  sun,  those  sittings  were  occupied  during  public 
worship  by  precisely  three  persons;  and  at  the  afternoon  serv- 
ice, held  in  a  chapel-of-ease,  primarily  for  the  blacks,  there  was 
not  one  present.  Thus  the  North  has  prevented  the  South  from 
doing  its  former  work  for  the  good  of  the  African;  consequent- 
ly it  must  make  its  account  to  do  it  all  itself. 

But  while  I  assert  this,  I  would  bear  my  emphatic  testi- 
mony against  the  falsehood  and  injustice  of  the  charge  that 
the  Southern  people  wish  to  cast  off  and  ruin  the  negro,  in  a 
spirit  of  pique  and  revenge  for  his  emancipation.  That  they 
regard  this  measure  as  neither  just  nor  wise,  is  perfectly  true. 
But  they  have  promised  to  acquiesce  in  it  as  a  condition  of 
peace;  that  promise  they  intend  faithfully  to  keep;  and  they 
universally  regard  slavery  as  finally  at  an  end.  There  is  noth- 
ing more  manifest  than  that  the  North,  amid  the  flame  and  heat 
of  all  its  animosities,  knows  and  feels  that  this  people  will  not 
be  the  one  to  break  its  new  covenant,  hard  as  its  conditions 
are;  and  that  the  freedom  of  the  late  slaves  and  the  authority 
wliich  has  dictated  it  are  secured  from  attack  by  us.  And  I 
boldly  testify  that  this  magnanimous  people  has  not  voluntarily 
withdrawn  Its  humane  Interest  from  the  blacks;  that  it  ear- 
nestly desires  their  prosperity;  that  it  wishes  to  give  them  em- 
ployment and  opportunity,  and  to  co-operate  in  their  mainten- 
ance as  far  as  possible;  that  they  do  not  cast  off  the  negroes, 
but  it  is  the  negroes  who  cast  them  off.     Yea,  the  people  of 


34  MAJOR   GENERAL  HOWARD. 

the  South  are  this  day  extending  to  tens  of  thousands  of  black 
families  a  generous  sympathy  in  the  midst  of  their  own  heavy 
losses  and  deep  poverty,  which  we  challenge  the  Christian 
world  to  surpass  in  its  splendid  philanthropy:  in  that  we  still 
refuse  to  cast  off  those  families,  although,  by  reason  of  the  in- 
cumbrance of  old  persons,  sick,  and  little  children,  their  pres- 
ent labor  is  worse  than  worthless  to  us,  and  we  know  we  shall 
receive  no  future  recompense  in  the  labor  of  the  children  we 
are  thus  rearing  gratis  for  other  men  as  independent  of  us  in 
future  as  we  are  of  them.  And  this  is  done  (oftentimes  in  spite 
of  a  present  requital  of  insolence,  misconception,  ingratitude 
and  a  petty  warfare  of  thefts  and  injuries)  by  Southern  gentle- 
men and  ladies,  who  appropriate  thereto  a  part  of  the  avails  of 
their  own  personal  labors,  undertaken  to  procure  subsistence 
for  their  own  children.  And  this  is  done,  not  in  a  few  excep- 
tional cases,  but  in  a  multitude  of  cases,  in  every  neighbor- 
hood of  ever}'  county,  so  that  the  numbers  of  destitute  freed- 
men  under  which  the  able  hands  of  your  Bureau  now  faint,  are 
not  a  tithe  of  those  who  are  still  maintained  by  the  impover- 
ished people  of  the  South.  And  this  is  done  simply  because 
humanity  makes  us  unwilling  to  thrust  out  those  for  whose 
happiness  we  have  so  long  been  accustomed  to  care  into  the 
hardships  of  their  new  and  untried  future.  And  unless  you 
can  expect  this  delicate  sentiment  to  exhibit  a  permanence 
which  would  be  almost  miraculous  under  the  "wear  and  tear'' 
of  our  future  poverty,  I  forewarn  you  that  you  must  stand  pre- 
pared for  a  tenfold  increase  of  your,  present  responsibilities, 
when  these  families  are  committed  to  you.  That  tenfold  bur- 
den you  must  learn  to  bear  successfully. 

Having  shown  you  the  starting  point  of  that  career  of 
beneficence  to  the  African,  from  which  you  are  solenmly  bound 
to  Grod  and  history  to  advance,  I  now  return  to  strengthen  the 
already  irresistible  argument  of  that  obligation.  If  the  South, 
with  all  its  disadvantages,  has  done  this  modicum  of  good  to 
this  poor  people,  the  North,  their  present  guardians,  with  their 
vast  advantages,  must  do  far  more.  The  South  was  the  infer- 
ior section  (so  the  North  told  us)  in  number,  in  wealth,  in  prog- 
ress, in  intelligence,  in  education,  in  religion.  The  vSoutli  (so 
the  North  says)  held  the  Africans  under  an  anti(]uated,  unright- 


Major  general  Howard.  ;^5 

(>(>iis  ;iud  niiscliievous  relation — that  of  domestic  slavery.  The 
North  now  has  them  on  the  new  footing,  whioh  is,  of  course, 
precisely  the  right  one.  The  South  was  their  oppressor;  the 
North  is  their  generous  liberator.  The  South  was  hagridden 
in  all  its  energies  for  good  (so  we  were  instructed)  by  the  "bar- 
barism of  slavery";  the  North  contains  the  most  civilized,  en- 
lightened and  etficient  people  on  eavth.  Now,  if  you  do  not 
surpass  our  poor  performances  for  the  negro  with  this  mighty 
contrast  in  your  favor,  how  mighty  will  be  the  just  reproba- 
tion which  will  be  visited  upon  you  by  the  common  sentiment 
of  mankind  and  by  the  Lord  of  Hosts?  If  you  do  not  suii)ass 
our  deeds  as  far  as  your  jjower  and  greatness  surpass  ours, 
how  can  you  stand  at  His  bar,  even  beside  us  sinners?  He  has 
taught  us  that  "a  man  is  accepted  according  to  that  which  he 
hath,  and  not  according  to  that  which  he  hath  not."  To  this 
righteous  rule  we  intend  to  liold  you,  as  our  successors  in  the 
guardianship  of  the  negro. 

If  there  are  any  who  endeavor  to  lull  your  energies  in  this 
work,  by  saj'ing  that  the  negro,  being  now  a  free  man,  must 
take  care  of  himself  like  other  people;  that  he  should  be  thrown 
on  his  own  resources,  and  that,  if  he  does  not  provide  for  his 
own  well-being,  he  should  be  left  to  suffer,  I  beseech  you,  in 
the  behalf  of  humanity,  of  justice  and  of  your  own  good  name, 
not  to  hearken  to  them.  I  ask  you  solemnly  whether  the  freed- 
men  have  an  "even  start"  in  the  race  for  subsistence  with  the 
other  laboring  men  of  the  nation,  marked  as  they  are  by  dif- 
ference of  race  and  color,  obstructed  by  stubborn  prejudices, 
and  disqualified  (as  you  hold)  for  the  responsibilities  of  self-sup- 
port, to  some  extent,  by  the  evil  effects  of  their  recent  bondage 
upon  their  character?  Is  it  fair,  or  right,  or  merciful  to  com- 
pel him  to  enter  the  stadium,  and  leave  him  to  this  fierce  com- 
petition under  these  graA^e  disadvantages?  Again,  no  peasant- 
ry under  the  sun  was  ever  required  or  was  ever  able  to  sustain 
themselves  when  connected  with  the  soil  by  no  tenure  of  any 
form.  Tender  our  system  our  slaves  had  the  most  permanent 
and  beneficial  form  of  tenancy;  for  their  master's  lands  were 
bound  to  them  by  law  for  furnishing  them  homes,  occupations 
and  subsistence  during  the  whole  continuance  of  the  master's 
tenure.     But  you  have  ended  all  this,  and  consigned  four  mil- 


36  MAJOR    GENERAL  HO WAED 

lions  of  people  to  a  condition  of  homelessness.  Will  the  Xorth 
thus  make  gipsies  of  them,  and  then  hold  them  responsible  for 
the  ruin  which  is  inevitable  from  such  a  condition? 

But  there  is  another  argument  equally  weighty.    By  adopt- 
ing the  unfeeling  policy  of  throwing  the  negro  upon  his  own 
resources,  to  sink  or  swim  as  he  may,  you  run  too  great  a  risk 
of  verifying  the  most  biMng  reproaches  and  objections  of  your 
enemies.    They,  in  case  of  his  failure,  will  argue  thus:    'That 
the  great  question  in  debate  between  the  defenders  of  slavery 
and  the  advocates  of  emancipation  was  whether  the  negro  was 
capable  of  self-control:  that  the  former,  who  professed  to  be 
more  intimately  acquainted  with  his  character,  denied  that  he 
was  capable  of  it.  and  solemnly  warned  you  of  the  danger  of 
his  ruin,  if  he  was  intrusted  with  his  own  direction,  in  this  coun- 
try, and  that  you,  in  insisting  on  the  experiment  in  spite  of 
this  warning,  assumed  the  whole  responsibility.     Sir,  if  the 
freedmen  should  perchance  fail  to  swim  successfully,  that  ar 
gument  would  be  too  damaging  to  you  and  your  people.    You 
cannot  afford  to  venture  upon  this  risk.    You  are  compelled  by 
the  interests  of  your  own  consistency  and  good  name,  to  take 
effectual  care  that  the  negro  shall  swim;  and  that  better  than 
before.     In  the  name  of  justice,  I  remonstrate  against  your 
throwing  him  off  in  his  present  state,  by  the  inexorable  fact 
that  he  was  translated  into  it,  neither  by  us,  nor  by  himself, 
but  by  you  alone;  for  out  of  that  fact  proceeds  an  obligation 
ux>on  3-0U.  to  make  your  experiment  successful,     which    will 
cleave  to  you  even  to  the  judgment  day.    And  out  of  that  fact 
proceeds  this  farther  obligation:  that  seeing  you  have  persisted, 
of  your  own  free  will,  in  making  this  experiment  of  his  libera- 
tion, you  and  your  people  are  bound  to  bestow  anything  or  ev- 
.  erything,  and  to  do  everything,  except  sin,  to  insure  that  it 
shall  be,  as  compared  with  his  previous  condition,  a  blessing 
to  him.    For,  if  you  were  not  willing  to  do  all  this,  were  you 
not  bound  to  let  him  alone?    When  the  shipmaster  urges  lands- 
men to  embark  in  his  ship,  and  venture  the  perils  of  the  deep, 
he  thereby  incurs  an  obligation,  if  a  storm  arises,  to  do  every- 
thing and  risk  everything,  even  to  his  own  life,  for  the  rescue 
of  his  charge.    If,  then,  you  and  your  people  should  find  that 
it  will  require  the  labors  of  another  million  of  busy  hands,  and 


MAJOli   GENERAL  IIOWAKD.  37 

the  expenditure  of  three  tliousand  millions  more  of  the  national 
wealth,  to  obviate  the  evils  and  dangers  arising  to  the  freedmen 
from  your  experiment  upon  their  previous  condition:  yea,  if  to 
do  this,  it  is  necessary  to  make  the  care  and  maintenance  of  the 
African  the  sole  business  and  labor  oif  the  whole  mighty  North, 
you  will  be  bound  to  do  it  at  this  cost. 

And  I  beg  you,  sir,  let  no  one  vainly  think  to  evade  this 
duty  which  they  owe  you  in  your  charge,  by  saying  that  per- 
haps even  so  profuse  an  expenditure  as  this,  for  the  benefit  of 
the  Africans,  would  fail  of  its  object;  because  they  hold  that 
making  a  prosperous  career  is  one  of  those  things  like  chewing 
their  own  food,  or  repenting  of  their  own  sins,  which  people 
must  do  for  themselves,  or  else  they  are  impossible  to  be  done; 
and  that  so  no  amount  of  help  can  make  the  freedmen  pros- 
perous as  such,  without  the  right  putting  forth  of  their  own 
spontaniety.  For,  do  you  not  see  that  this  plea  surrenders  you 
into  the  hands  of  those  bitter  adversaries,  the  Pro-Slavery  men? 
Is  this  not  the  very  thing  they  said?  This  was  precisely  their 
argument  to  show  that  philanthropy  required  the  Africans  in 
this  country  should  be  kept  in  a  dependent  condition.  If  your 
section  acquiesces  in  the  failure  oif  your  experiment  of  their 
liberation  on  this  ground,  what  will  this  be  but  the  admission 
of  the  daumiug  charge  that  your  measure  is  a  blunder  and  a 
crime,  aggravated  by  the  warning  so  emphatic,  which  your  op- 
ponents gave  you.  and  to  which  you  refused  to  listen? 

T'ut  I  feel  bound,  as  your  zealous  and  faithful  supporter  in 
your  humane  task,  to  give  you  one  more  caution.  The  objectors 
who  watch  you  with  so  severe  an  eye  have  even  a  darker  sug- 
gestion to  make  than  the  charge  of  headstrong  rashness  and 
criminal  mistake  in  your  experiment  of  emancipation.  They 
are  heard  gloomily  to  insinuate  that  the  ruin  of  the  African 
(which  they  so  persistently  assert  must  result  from  the  change) 
is  not  the  blunder  of  the  North,  but  the  foreseen  and  intended 
result!  Are  you  aware  of  the  existence  of  this  frightful  inuendo? 
It  is  my  duty  to  reveal  it  to  you,  that  you  may  be  put  upon 
your  guard.  These  stern  critics  are  heard  darkly  hinting  that 
they  knov/  Northern  statesmen  and  presses  who  now  admit, 
with  a  sardonic  shrug,  that  the  black  man,  deprived  of  the 
benignant  shield  of  domestic  servitude,  must  of  course  parish 


38  MAJOK   GENERAL  HOAVAED. 

like  tile  red  luau.  These  critics  are  heard  iiiferriu«i-  that  the 
true  meaniuji"  of  Northern  Republicanism  and  Free  Soil  is,  thai 
the  white  race  must  be  free  to  shoulder  the  black  race  otf  this 
continent,  and  monopolize  the  sunny  soil,  which  the  God  of  na- 
tions gave  the  latter  as  their  heritaj^^e.  They  take  a  sort  of  grihi 
pleasure  in  pointint>-  to  the  dead  infants,  which,  they  say,  usual- 
ly marked  the  liberatinj^'  cjurse  of  your  armies  through  the 
South,  in  displaying  the  destitution  and  mortality  which,  they 
charge,  are  permitted  in  the  vast  settlements  of  freedmen  un- 
der your  care;  in  insinuating  the  rumors  of  official  returns  of  a 
mortality  already  incurred  in  the  Southwest,  made  to  your  gov- 
ernment, so  hideous  that  their  suppression  was  a  necessity; 
and  in  relating  how  the  jungles  which  are  encroaching  upon  the 
once  smiling  ''coasts"  of  the  Mississippi,  in  Louisiana,  already 
enveioi)e  the  graves  of  half  the  black  population  in  that  State! 
And  the  terrible  inference  from  all  this,  which  they  intimate  is, 
that  the  great  and  powerful  North  only  permits  these  disasters 
because  it  intends  them;  that,  not  satisfied  with  the  wide  do- 
main which  I»rovidence  has  assigned  to  them,  they  now  pretend 
to  liberate  the  slave  whom  they  have  seen  too  i)rosperous  under 
his  domestic  servitude,  in  order  to  destroy  him,  and  grasp,  in 
addition,  the  soil  which  he  has  occupied. 

Now,  sir,  it  is  incumbent  on  you,  that  the  premises  on 
which,  with  so  dangerous  a  plausibility,  they  ground  this  tre- 
mendous charge,  be  effectually  contradicted  by  happy  and  bene- 
ficent results.  You  must  refute  this  monstrous  indictment,  and 
there  is  only  one  way  to  do  it,  by  actually  showing  that  you 
conserve  and  bless  the  African  rac(\  multiply  their  numbers, 
and  confirm  their  prosperity  on  the  soil,  more  than  we  have 
done.  I  repeat,  the  North  must  refute  it  thus.  For,  of  course, 
every  Northern  man.  while  indignantly  denying  and  abhorring 
it,  admits  (what  is  as  plain  as  the  sun  at  midday)  that  if  the 
charge  were  indeed  true,  it  would  convict  his  people  of  the 
blackest  public  crime  of  the  nineteenth  century;  a  crime  which 
would  be  found  to  involve  every  aggravation  and  every  ele- 
ment of  enormity  which  the  nomenclature  of  ethics  enables  us 
to  describe.  It  would  be  the  deliberate,  calculated,  cold-blood- 
ed, selfish  dedication  of  an  innocent  race  of  four  millions  to 
annihilation;  the  murder,  with  malice  prepence,  of  a  nation! 


MAJOR   GENERAL  HOWARD.  39 

not  by  the  comparatively  merciful  process  of  the  royal  Hun, 
whose  maxim  was,  that  ''thick  grass  is  cut  more  easily  than 
thin,"  summary  anassacre;  but  by  the  slowly  eating  cancer  of 
destitution,  degradation,  immorality,  protracting  the  long 
agony  through  two  or  three  generations,  thus  multiplying  the 
victims  who  would  be  permitted  lo  be  born  iinly  to  sin,  to  suffer 
and  to  perish;  and  insuring  the  everlasting  perdition  of  the 
soul,  along  with  the  body,  by  cunningly  making  their  own  vices 
the  executioners  of  the  doom.  It  would  include  the  blackest 
guilt  of  treason  being  done  under  the  deceitful  mask  of  bene- 
faction and  by  pretended  liberators.  The  unrighteousness  of 
its  motive  would  concur  with  its  treachery  to  enhance  its  guilt 
to  the  most  stupendous  height;  for  upon  this  Interpretation  of 
the  purpose  of  the  North,  that  motive  would  be,  first  to  weaken 
and  disable  its  late  adversary,  the  South,  by  destroying  that 
part  of  the  people  which  was  guilty  of  no  sin  against  you,  and 
then,  by  this  union  of  fraud  and  force,  to  seize  and  enjoy  the 
space  which  (rod  gave  them,  and  laws  and  constitution  guar- 
anteed. This,  indeed,  would  be  the  picture  which  these  ac- 
cusers would  then  present  of  your  splendid  act,  that  you  came 
as  a  pretended  friend  and  deliverer  to  the  African,  and  while 
he  embraced  you  as  his  benefactor  in  all  his  simple  i-onfidence 
and  joy,  you  thrust  your  sword  through  and  through  his  heart, 
in  order  to  reach,  with  a  flesh  wound,  the  hated  white  man  who 
stood  behind  him,  whom  you  could  not  otherwise  reach.  The 
deed  would  receive  an  additional  shade  of  blackness  from  every 
reproach  wliich  the  North  has  ever  uttered  against  us  for  our 
supposed  oppression  of  the  black  man,  from  every  profession  of 
your  superior  humanity  toward  him — from  every  assertion  of 
your  superior  civilization,  light  and  rhristianity.  For  is  it  not 
the  righteous  penalty  of  the  servant  who  knew  the  will  of  his 
Divine  Master  and  did  it  not,  to  be  beaten  with  many  stripes? 
If  the  North  should,  indeed,  after  all  its  claims  of  the  traits 
which  exalt  a  people,  have  this  most  accursed  deed  fastened 
upon  it,  then  would  be  fulfilled  against  it  that  awful  wai'uing 
which  the  Son  of  (rod  thundered  against  the  most  boastful  o-f 
tlie  abuseis  of  His  teachings:  "Thou  Capernaum,  which  art 
exalted  unto  heaven,  shalt  be  thrust  down  to  hell."  And  on  the 
face  of  all  the  earth  there  has  been  no  people  since  that  doomed 


40  MAJOK    GENERAL  HOWARD. 

race  who  said:  "His  blood  be  upon  us  and  our  ebildren." 
against  whom  the  voice  3f  impartial  history  has  pronounced 
deeper  execrations  than  those  which  would  await  rou.  Once 
more,  could  such  a  crime  be  perpetrated  and  tlie  dire  judgments 
of  Grod  fail  to  follow?  Could  your  posterity  h^pe  ro  escape  the 
fated  tread  of  that  divine  retribution  which  hitherto  has  pur- 
sued, with  inevitable  steps,  the  crimes  of  all  the  nations,  from 
the  primeval  East  to  tlie  farthest  West,  with  the  double 
scjurges  of  God? 

Up.  then!  honorable  Sir:  Yea,  I  would  exclaim  through 
yuu:  Up:  thou  great.  Christian  North:  cleanse  thy  skirts  from 
this  foul  charge;  deliver  thy  children  from  this  fierce  indigna- 
tion of  heaven  by  the  splendid  liberality  and  success  of  your 
etforts  for  the  freedmen.  Up  and  silence  yjur  accusers,  by  lift- 
ing these  Africans,  with  the  strong  hand  of  your  beneficence, 
to  your  own  prosperity.  Do  not  listen  to  these  boding  asser- 
tors  of  the  impossibility  of  the  exploit:  but  so  lavish  your  en- 
lightened care  and  labor,  and  wealtli  and  love,  as  to  compel  im- 
possibility itself. 

The  conclusions  to  which,  I  trust,  you  liave  now  come  with 
me,  are  briefly  these,  that  the  Xorth  is  bound  by  the  l3gic  of 
events  and  of  its  own  acts  to  become  the  chief  guardian  and 
nui'se  of  the  freedmen.  That  the  South  is.  without  its  own 
fault,  disabled  from  doing  more  than  a  very  little  of  this  work 
in  future.  That  the  North  must  d3  more  for  them  than  the 
South  ever  did.  and  that  in  the  proportion  of  her  own  superior- 
ity over  us.  as  that  superiority  is  asserted  by  herself,  and  of 
the  advantage  and  justice  which  freedom  possesses,  according 
to  her,  over  slavery,  that  the  Xartli  cannot  throw  on  the  Afri- 
can, unaided,  the  task  of  securing  Ms  own  destiny,  nor  plead 
that  the  attainment  of  social  prosperity  is  a  thing  which  can- 
not be  done  for  those  who  do  not  effect  it  for  themselves;  be- 
cause these  are  just  the  p Dints  which  the  South  urged  against 
this  change  and  which  the  North  denied  in  insisting  upon  it, 
and  because  you  alone  are  the  authors  of  the  change.  That 
your  section  has  thereby  incurred  a  sacred  obligation  to  bestow 
on  the  African  a  well  being  higher  than  that  of  the  state  from 
which  you  took  him,  no  matter  how  much  it  may  cost  you.  And 
that,  if  the  North  fails  in  this,  it  confesses  itself  an  enormous 
criminal. 


MAJOR   GENERAL  HOWARD.  4l 

Here,  then,  is  your  task,  anil  these  are  its  conditions.  There 
is  no  more  sincere  aid  wliich  I  can  renih'r  you  in  it  than  to  ^ive 
you  a  sober  sketch  of  its  real  difficulties,  and  with  this  I  shall 
close. 

One  of  3'our  difficulties  is  in  the  thriftlessness  of  the  Afri- 
cans themselves,  and  their  want  of  intelligent  foresight;  a  trait 
which  was  caused,  not  by  domestic  servitude,  but  by  the  savage 
condition  from  wliicli  they  were  taken,  and  whicli  we  had  i>ar- 
tially  corrected  when  they  were  taken  out  of  our  liands.  (For 
this  is  just  the  character  which  all  savages  exhibit,  and  espec- 
ially those  of  the  torrid  climes,  wliich  know  U)  winter.)  Our 
system  assigned  an  effectual  remedy  for  the  misc.hievous  ef- 
fects of  this  trait  by  making  it  the  interest  and  duty  of  every 
slave  owner,  and  of  all  his  adult  childien  and  heirs  to  teach  the 
servant  care  and  industry,  and  to  guard  against  his  thriftless- 
ness. How  you  are  to  repair  it  under  your  system  I,  of  course, 
must  not  presume  to  dictate.  I  will  only  venture  to  say  that 
the  correction  of  it  must  manifestly  require  a  vast  amount  of 
careful  and  patient  tutelage  of  a  multitude  of  hands.  The  cen- 
sus returns  of  1850  gave  the  South  two  hundred  and  eighty 
thousand  slave  owners.  Every  one  of  these,  with  their  wives, 
many  of  their  adult  children  and  a  multitude  of  overseers  and 
agents  were  interested  teachers  and  guardians  of  the  Afiican, 
and  many  of  them  exceedingly  diligent,  and  devoted  all  their 
time  to  this  work.  Hence  it  is  manifestly  a  very  moderate  es- 
timate that  your  bureau  must  employ  in  the  tutelage  and  guar- 
dianship of  these  helpless  people  not  less  than  a  quarter  of  a 
million  of  persons,  and  as  the  powerful  motive  of  interest  and 
property  is  extinguished  they  must  all  be  of  better  average 
character  than  Southern  slave  owners  to  do  their  work  as  well 
without  that  motive  as  these  did  with  it.  They  must  be  all  of 
thorough  integrity  and  intelligence. 

Another  of  your  difficulti(^s  will  be  found  in  tlu'  enormous 
misconceptions  which  now  fill  the  minds  of  the  freednien.  Tlie 
mischief  of  one  of  these  I  have  already  indicated.  It  suited 
your  purposes,  during  the  season  of  strife,  diligently  to  teach 
the  negro  that  the  white  people  of  the  South  were  their  op- 
pressors and  enemies.  Well,  sir,  they  have  learned  your  les- 
son effectually,  and  will  not  speedily  unlearn  it.     The  conse- 


42  MAJOR  ge:n^eral  Howard. 

quence  is  that  yon  have  thereby  stripped  yourself  of  the  aid  of 
eight  inillioiis  of  white  people  in  your  ardnons  task,  and  these 
the  white  people  among  whom  the  larger  part  of  rlie  freedmen 
still  live,  among  wham  alone  are  to  be  found  persons  familiar 
with  African  character,  and  among  whom  alone  has  there  ever 
been,  or  will  there  ever  be  an  ingenuous  personal  affection  for 
individuals  of  that  race.  We  have  lost  the  ability  to  guide, 
counsel,  or  instruct  them. 

The  lai-ger  part  of  them  evidently  confound  liberty  with  li- 
cense; and  to  them,  liberty  means  living  without  earning  a  liv- 
ing. Accustomed  to  see  their  masters  performing  little  man- 
ual labor  (because  they  were  necessarily  occupied  with  the  more 
imp(>rtant,  and  often  more  arduous,  labor  of  superintendence), 
the  freedmen  assume  that,  to  be  free,  is  to  be  like  their  masters 
in  the  former  particular.  They  forget  this  little  difference,  that 
a  man  cannot  be  usefully  occupied  in  the  labor  of  superintend- 
ence, when  he  has  nobody  to  superintend.  Your  first  task,  sir, 
will  be  to  convince  them  of  this  mistake,  and,  as  I  have  proved, 
you  are  bound  to  do  this,  without  causing  or  iiermitting  them 
to  suffer  any  painful  conse(iuence  of  this  error. 

Your  emissaries,  armed  and  clerical,  diligently  taught 
them  that  all  the  labor  rendered  by  them  in  servitude  was  in- 
compensated;  and  that  every  dollar  of  the  proceeds  of  that  la- 
bor taken  by  the  landholder,  was  a  robbery  from  them.  (A 
good  and  certain  home  and  livelihood  at  all  times,  sustenance 
for  their  families,  provision  for  their  decrepitude,  and  main- 
tenance for  those  they  left  behind  them  are,  in  the  eyes  of  these 
philosophers,  no  compensation  at  all,  even  f  )r  that  labor  which 
is  least  skilled;  because,  I  presume,  they  were  ;so  secure  and 
regular.  And  it  is  the  established  doctrine  of  the  Abolition 
school,  that,  while  labor  is  entitled  to  wages,  capital  is  not;  in 
accordance  with  which  truth,  those  good  people,  as  is  well 
known,  always  lend  out  their  money  for  nothing,  and  pay  away 
the  whole  profits  of  their  costly  factories  in  wages  to  opera- 
tives.) The  consequence  of  this  doctrine  amang  the  freedmen 
is  this:  They  argue  that  all  the  property  in  the  country  being 
the  fruit  of  their  unrequited  labor,  they  may  now  help  them- 
selves to  a  fair  return,  wiienever  and  how^ever  they  can.  Hence 
a  habit  of  what  we  old  fashioned  Southerners    used    to  call 


MAJOR   GENERAL  HOWARD.  43 

"theft,"  wliicli  renders  tbem  of  i-atliei-  doubtful  utility  as  liii-ed 
laborers.  You  will  have  a  great  deal  of  trouble,  sir,  in  cor- 
recting this  mistake;  and  again,  I  urge  that  j'ou  are  bound  to 
do  this,  without  permitting  or  causing  the  freedmen  to  taste 
any  of  its  bitter  consequences.  For,  I  reason  of  this  as  of  all 
other  misconceptions  which  they  learned  of  you,  that  you  are 
solemnly  bound  not  to  let  them  suffer  for  what  was  your  error. 
What,  will  you  punish  them  for  believing  you?  It  would  be 
a  monstrous  iniquity.  You  have  tliis  taslc  then,  gently  to  edu- 
cate them  out  of  this  innocent  mistake  of  stealing  everything 
which  conies  to  their  hand,  by  "moral  suasion,"  without  stocks, 
whipping  posts,  jails,  or  any  such  harsh  measures;  and  mean- 
time, to  generously  repair  all  the  evil  consequences  of  those 
thefts,  to  themselves  or  others,  out  of  your  own  inexhaustible 
pockets.  Do  you  not  think,  sir,  that  to  elTect  this  the  "school- 
master" will  have  to  go  "abroad"  pretty  considerably? 

Thus  one  mischievous  mistake  chases  another  through 
their  ignorant  minds,  fostered  by  designing  and  malicious  men; 
and  each  one  is  a  fatal  obstacle  in  that  path  of  sober  industry 
where  alone  their  welfare  is  to  be  found.  You  have  a  great 
task,  sir,  in  causing  them  to  unlearn  these  misconceptions.  How 
many  embarrassing  self-contradictions  your  people  will  have 
to  make  in  performing  that  task,  it  is  not  for  me  to  indicate. 

Another  of  your  difficulties  will  be  ifound  in  the  necessity 
for  the  displacement  of  a  very  large  part  of  the  black  labor  and 
population  in  many  districts  of  the  South.  My  own  county 
may  be  taken  as  a  fair  example  of  the  other  parts  of  Virginia. 
There  were  in  it  about  eight  thousand  blacks.  Our  wisest  men 
of  business  are  unanimous  in  declaring  that  under  the  new  sys- 
tem of  hireling  labor,  the  industrial  pursuits  of  the  county  can- 
not employ  profitably  more  than  one-third  (some  say  not  more 
than  one-fifth)  of  the  former  labor,  at  prices  which  will  give  sub- 
sistence to  the  blacks.  And  their  opinion  is  manifestly  correct, 
because  every  business  man  who  is  questioned,  individually, 
declares  that  he  is  constrained  to  reduce  the  labor  employed  by 
him  in  some  such  ratio.  Now,  this  fact  is  not  cited  by  me  to 
argue  from  it  the  superior  economy  and  productiveness  of  the 
former  system,  in  that  it  was  able  to  employ,  upon  the  same 
soil,  in  a  remunerative  manner,  three  times  or  five  times  as 


44  MAJOR    GENERAL  HOWARD. 

much  hibor.  (Aud  that  the  empluymeut  of  it  was  remunerative 
is  proved  beyond  a  cavil  by  the  prosperity  jf  enipk)yers  and  la- 
borers.) The  only  use  I  make  of  the  fact  is  to  show  that  two- 
thirds  of  this  black  population  should  at  once  emigrate;  or  it 
becomes  unemployed,  destitute,  suffering  and  vicious.  But  the 
local  attachmeuts  of  the  African  are  predominant;  and  that 
spirit  3f  adventure  and  enterprise,  which  carries  the  Virginian 
to  the  front  wave  of  every  tide  of  pioneer  population,  is  as  for- 
eign t(>  his  nature  as  frost  is  to  his  fervent  native  clime.  The 
temper  of  the  negro  is  to  do  just  what  he  has  been  used  to,  aud 
nothing  else.  Here,  sir.  y  )u  have  a  problem  which  will  tax 
30ur  ingenuity  and  f(»rce;  how  to  displace  two-thirds  of  the 
half  million  of  blacks  in  Mrginia  to  a  new  soil,  when  they  do 
not  wish  to  go,  have  no  capital,  and  are  deficient  in  knowledge 
and  thrift;  and  tj  do  this  without  a  result  of  widespread  desti- 
tution, domestic  distress,  disease  and  death. 

But,  perhaps,  the  greatest  of  your  difficulties  is  the  one 
which  has  been  hitherto  least  appreciated — the  novelty  of  your 
task.  You,  sir,  are  appointed  to  do  whait  no  other  mortal  has 
hitherto  dDue  successfully:  to  transmute  four  millions  of  slaves, 
of  an  alien  race  and  lower  culture,  all  at  once  into  citizens,  with- 
out allowing  them  to  suffer  or  deteriorate  on  your  hands.  You 
have  no  precedents  to  guide  you.  You  cannot  resort  to  the 
pages  of  political  history  to  find  there  the  lights  which  may 
show  you  your  momentous  duties.  But  there  is  no  other  guide 
in  political  science.  The  machinery  of  maral  causes,  which 
forms  a  political  society',  is  too  complex  for  any  finite  mind  to 
foresee,  by  its  a  priori  speculations,  what  wheels  tn^III  be  moved 
b}'  the  spring  which  he  touches.  His  only  safe  guide  is  the 
experience  of  previous  results  under  similar  conditions.  If  he 
attempts  to  act  beyond  this  his  action  is,  in  the  worst  sense, 
experiment;  a  blind  guess,  leading  him  by  haphazard  to  un- 
forseen  results.  In  the  sciences  of  material  things,  these  ex- 
periments have  been  useful  and  are  legitimate.  The  philosopher 
may  properly  deal  thus  with  his  metallic  ore;  he  may  venture 
his  unproved  hypothesis  concerning  it;  he  may  submit  it  to  new 
solvents,  or  acids,  or  fires;  oftentimes  he  will  find  that  his  hy- 
pothesis is  false  and  leads  to  nothing;  but  sometimes  he  will 
find  that  it  is  the  occasion  of  stumbling  upon  the  key  to  one  of 


Major  genekal  tiowARi).  45 

nature's  precious  secrets.  Now,  his  justiticatiou  is  tliat  the  ore 
which  lie  eats  with  corrosive  acids,  or  melts  iu  his  furnace,  suf- 
fers nothing  in  this  blundering  process  of  questioning  after  new 
truth.  It  has  no  nerves  to  be  fretted  under  his  handling;  no 
heart  to  be  wrung;  no  sentient  or  intellectual  destiny  to  be 
perverted  or  destroyed  under  his  mistakes,  and,  above  all,  no 
immortal  soul  to  be  lost  in  his  hands.  But,  in  social  science, 
mere  experiments  are  crimes;  for  the  subjects  of  them  are  im- 
mortal intelligences,  endowed  by  God  with  a  moral  destiny, 
with  hearts  to  bleed  under  errors,  and  never-dying  souls  to  be 
lost.  Fearful,  then,  is  the  responsibility  of  him  who  handles  a 
social  revolution  new  in  the  history  of  man.  He  must  march; 
yet  he  cannot  know"  whether  or  not  the  path  which  he  selects 
will  lead  him  over  the  bleeding  hearts  and  ruined  destinies  of 
his  own  charge.  For  such,  the  only  adequate  director  is  the 
Spirit  of  God;  and  his  best  resort  is  prayer.  To  that  resort  I 
sincerely  and  solemnly  commend  you;  and  close  by  subscribing 
'myself.  Your  very  obedient  servant, 

ROBERT  L.  DABNEY, 
Sept.  12,  1865.  Prince  Edward  County,  Va. 


ABSTRACTIONISTS.' 

There  are  two  ways  o'f  reasonino-  about  human  affairs.  One 
is,  to  bring-  measures  to  the  test  of  fundamental  principles,  and 
abide  by  their  decision  firmly.  The  other  is,  to  inquire:  "What 
is  the  dictate  of  policy,  of  expediency,  of  present  utility?" 
There  are  two  classes  of  minds  in  the  world:  the  speculative,  and 
the  practical.  The  former  seeks  to  analyze  its  objects  of 
thought,  to  arrive  at  ultimate  truths,  and  from  those  truths,  to 
deduce  its  practical  conclusions.  The  other  only  considers  prop- 
ositions, in  the  light  of  their  practical  consequences  as  perceiv- 
ed by  itself.  The  former  looks  at  general  laws:  the  latter  at  im- 
mediate results. 

Now  the  latter  class  of  people  have  applied  to  the  former, 
in  these  days  of  ours,  a  name,  which  is  at  least  new  in  its  pres- 
ent sense:  abstractionists.  It  is  subject  of  joy,  for  the  sake  of 
the  credit  of  the  Church,  that  this  name  was  first  invented 
among  politicians;  but  it  is  to  be  lamented,  that  the  Church's 
people  have,  to  her  disgrace,  borrowed  the  name  with  its  con- 
temptuous meaning,  from  the  politicians.  An  abstraction, 
projxM-ly  understood,  means,  a  proposition  considered  as  naked 
and  gvneral,  stripped  of  all  the  accidental  circumstances  which 
belong  to  'a\\\  individual  case  under  it.  But  the  idea  which 
some  of  those  seem  to  have,  whO'  use  the  word  as  a  term  of 
contempt,  is  that  it  is  just  something*  which  is  abstruse.  Those 
who  know  what  they  mean  by  it,  if  there  are  any  such,  probably 
intend  by  abstractions,  speculative  principles,  as  opposed  to 
ipractical  conclusions. 

Among  the  many  good  results  of  popular  government  in 
church  and  state,  there  is  this  unfortunate  one:  that  its  usages 
tend  to  teach  the  governing  minds  to  despise  speculative 
thought,  and  reason  only  from  present  expediency.  It  is  the 
popular  mind,  with  which  they  have  to  deal:  and  that  mostly  in 
the  fugitive  form  of  oral  address,  or  the  flimsy  newspaper  ar- 
gument, where  the  whole  result  intended,  is  a  momentary  im- 

1  Appeared  in  "Presbyterial  Critic,"  June,  1855. 
46 


aSstraotionists.  4*7 

pressioii.  The  minds  addressed,  are  not  trained  to  speculation, 
and  could  not  comprehend  it.  Hence,  public  men  are  tempted 
to  disuse  it,  till  they  become  incapable  of  it  themselves;  and 
all  profundity  and  breadth  of  view  are  neglected,  or  even  de- 
spised, in  reasoning  of  public  affairs.  Men  aim  only  to  catch 
the  public  ear  by  some  shallow  argument  of  present  expediency; 
and  brand  all  appeals  to  more  fundamental  truths  "as  abstrac- 
tions,"— gossamer  speculations  unworthy  to  bind  the  strong 
eommon  sense  of  practical  people.  Thus,  it  is  proposed,  in  fed- 
eral politics,  to  institute  some  measure,  the  argument  for  which 
is  present  utility.  Its  opponents  object,  that  it  is  not  within  the 
legitimate  scope  of  the  federal  instirutions;  and  to  institute  it 
would  be  a  virtual  breach  of  constitutional  compacts.  "Ah," 
says  its  advocate,  "that  is  one  of  your  'abstractions.'  Isn't  the 
measure  a  good  one  in  its  practical  elTect?  Then  why  not  adopt 
it?"  Or,  in  church  affairs;  one  good  brother  proposes,  that  the 
Church  shall  take  into  its  own  official  hand,  the  business  of 
education,  and  imbue  it  proper!}^  with  the  Christian  element. 
Another  brother  objects,  that  to  educate  is  not  tlie  divinely  ap- 
pointed function  of  a  church.  "Why,"  asks  the  first,  "don't  you 
admit  that  all  education  ought  to  be  Christian  education?" 
"Oh,  yes,"  says  the  respondent;  "but  it  is  the  function  of  Chris- 
tian parents;  combining,  if  necessary;  but  as  parents,  not  as 
presbyters."  "What  of  that?"'  says  the  first;  "our  church  schools 
are  very  good  things:  very  harmless  things  as  yet:  and  where 
is  the  difference  between  a  combination  of  certain  men  as 
Christian  parents,  to  make  and  govern  a  certain  sort  of  school, 
and  a  combination  of  the  :same  men  as  presbyters  to  nuike  the 
same  sort  of  school?"  "There  is  the  difference  of  the  princijtle 
involved,"  it  is  answered;  "and  it  is  never  safe  to  admit  a  false 
principle."  "Pshaw,"  says  the  first;  "that  is  nothing  but  one 
of  your  'abstractions.'  " 

The  term  is  intended  to  be  one  of  contempt.  It  is  sujiposed 
to  describe  something  uncertain,  vague,  devious,  sophisliral :  as 
opposed  to  that  which  is  positive,  sensible  and  rt^iiable.  The 
"abstractionist''  is  represented  as  a  man,  fanciful  and  unrelia- 
ble; who  pursues  the  intangible  nioonshine  of  metapliysical 
ideas,  until  he  and  his  followers  "wander,  in  devious  ma/.es 
lost."  But  if  any  of  the  men  who  attempt  abstractions  arc  vague 


48  ABSTRACTIONISTS. 

or  sophistical,  is  it  because  they  use  abstract  propos-itions ;  or 
because  they  misuse  them?  If  men  choose  to  be  careless  or  dis- 
honest in  their  thiuldug; — if  they  will  mix  or  vary  the  terms 
of  their  propositions,  or  commit  any  other  logical  errors,  they 
will  be  erroneous,  however  they  may  reason.  And  we  assert,  as 
an  offset  to  this  reproach,  that  no  truths  can  be  general,  except 
those  which  are  abstract:  for  by  the  very  reason  that  concrete 
propositions  are  concrete,  they  must  be  particular,  or  indivi- 
dual; and  therefore  no  deduction  made  from  them,  can  have  any 
certainty  when  it  is  attempted  to  give  it  a  general  application. 
The  concrete  is  best  for  illustration,  but  for  general  reasoning 
it  is  useless:  and  all  gentlemen  who  are  accustomed  to  boast, 
that  they  are  not  '^abstractionists,"  thereby  confess  that  their 
arguments  are  only  illustrations.  If  they  wish  to  glorify  their 
logic  therein,  the}'  are  welcome. 

But  that  any  educated  man  should  indulge  in  this  slang  of 
the  hustings  and  the  demagogue,  is  derogatory  to  his  own  intel- 
ligence, and  his  fraternity.  For  every  man  of  information  ought 
to  know-,  that  abstractions  are  the  most  practical  things  in  the 
world.  His  reading  ought  to  remind  him  how  directly  the  most 
abstract  truths  have  led  on  to  the  most  practical  conclusions; 
how  inev^itably  they  work  themselves  out  into  practical  results, 
and  how  uniformly  the  most  practical  truths  depend  for  their 
evidence  on  those  which  are  abstract.  There  is  no  branch  of 
human  science,  which  does  not  teem  with  illustrations  of  this. 
Our  anti-abstractionists  would  probably  consider  it  rather  a 
shadowy  question,  if  they  were  called  to  debate  whether  or  not 
Galvanism  and  Magnetism  are  generically  distinct  or  like;  two 
somethings  impalpable,  invisible,  imponderable,  which  we 
hardly  know  whether  to  call  substances  or  not.  Yet,  on  the  an- 
swer to  that  question  depended  the  invention  of  the  Magnetic 
Telegraph,  with  all  its  very  practical  results,  in  the  regulating 
of  the  prices  of  breadstuffs,  the  catching  of  fugitive  rogues,  and 
the  announcement  of  the  end  of  dead  emperors.  Latent  caloric 
strikes  us  as  a  rather  abstract  thing:  a  something  which  no  hu- 
man nerve  ever  has,  or  ever  will  feel,  and  which  the  most  deli- 
cate thermometer  does  not  reveal.  And  about  this  shadowy 
something,  a  very  shadowy  proposition  has  been  proved  by  your 
contemptible  abstractionists :  namely,  that  in  certain  cases,  sen- 


AiisTkAtJTto^ts'rs.  4^1 

sibie  liejit  becomiug  latent,  iucivasas  elasticit.^v.  This  is  tlie  ab^ 
stractioii  which  revealed  to  mankind  the  secret  steam  engine; 
and  which  now  propells  our  boats,  spins  our  cloths,  grinds  our 
flour,  saws  our  lumber,  ploughs  the  ocean  with  our  floating 
palaces,  whirls  us  across  continents  in  the  rail-cars,  and  some- 
times scalds  or  cripples  us  by  the  score.  A  rather  practical 
thing,  is  this  abstraction. 

Or,  let  us  take  illustrations  from  the  moral  sciences.    Ev- 
ery well  informed  man  ouglit  to  know  that  the  abstract  ques- 
tion, whether  general  ideas      are     substances,     c  )nception,  or 
names,  once  almost  threw  p]uroi)e  into  fits,  armed  universities, 
and  even  commonwealths  against  each  other,     and     probably 
cost  John  Huss  his  life.    \\'hether  what  we  call    causation  is  a 
real  and  necessary  connexion,  or  merely  an  observed  sequence 
of  events,  is  a  very  abstract  question:  but  it  makes  all  the  dif- 
ference between  a  God  and  no  (lod:  yea,  all  the  difference  be- 
tween the  blessings,  civilization,  wholesome  restraints  and  hap- 
piness of  religion,  and  the  license,  vice,  atrocity  and  despair  of 
Atheism.     Indeed  your  thorough  Atheist,  is  the  only  true  and 
ccmsistent  anti-abstractionist.    Jonathan  Edwards'  work  on  the 
wall,  is  usually  thought  rather  an  abstract  book,  on  a  rather  ab- 
stract subject.    Its  great  question  is,  whether  volitions  are  cer- 
tain, according  to  the  prevalent  bent  of  the  dispositions,  or  self- 
determining.    But  the  answer  to  this  abstract  question  decides 
authoritatively  between  Calvinism  and  Pelagianism.     Presby- 
terians, we  think,  have  found  the  latter  quite  a  practical  mat- 
ter!   Can  human  merit  be  imij^ited  to  another  human  being,  in 
(rod's  government,  as  it  is  in  man's?    "A  very  useless,  unprac- 
tical (juestion,"  you  say.     "I  don't  care  to  speculate  in  such 
unsubstantial  merchandise.''     Well,  from  the  aflirmative  an- 
swer to  that  question  Thomas  Aquinas  deduced  the  grand  sys- 
tem of   Papal    Indulgences.    Here  is  an  abstraction  aut  of  which 
grew  a  good  many  important  matters:  such  as  a  good  many  mil- 
lions of  crowns  transferred  out  of  the  pockets  of  good  Catho- 
lics, into  those  of  "his  Holiness  the  Pope"; — the  zeal  of  Luther 
against  Tetzel,  and  thence  the  Keformation — with  English  lib- 
erty and  through  that,  American:  with  a  good  many  other  very 
practical  affairs.    But  enough.    The  most  abstract  propositions 
have  often  divided  nations,  and  led  to  wars,  revolutions,  and 


50  ABSTRACTIONISTS. 

convulsions:  just  as  that  abstraction,  ^'whether    a     man     can 
rif^htfully  own  as  property,  the  labor  of  a  fellow  man  without 
his  voluntary  consent."  now  threatens  our  nation  wdth  fratrici- 
dal and  suicidal  war.     There  is  no  practical  truth,  in  the  evi- 
dence of  which  an  abstract  one  is  not  concerned.    There  is  no 
abstract  truth  which  may  not  lead,  by  lofjical  necessity,  to  prac- 
tical results.    How  unthinking,  and  iiinorant  ought  a  man  to  be, 
in  order  to  utter  an  honest,  sincere  sneer  against  dealings  and 
dealers   in   abstractions?     Very   sinpid   indeed.     Again;   such 
sneers  are  always  inconsistent.    Every  man  is  an  abstractionist, 
except  perhaps  the  materialist — atheist,  who  does  not  believe 
there  is  any  God,  because  he  has  never  seen  Him,  or  that  he  has 
any  soul,  because  he  cannot  handle  it.    Those  who  contemptu- 
ously disavow  it,  only  do  so'  when  the  abstractions  are  against 
them;  and  strenuously  use  similar  abstractions,  on  their  own 
side.     How  literally  has  this  been  verified  in  federal  politics? 
In  truth,  no  man  can  help  it;  for  the  foundation  of  every  man's 
right,  theory,  or  project,  whatever  it  may  be,  is  on  an  abstract 
principle.     And  the  veriest  red-R(^i)ubliran  of  them  all,  who 
thinks  he  has  trampled  down  every  abstraction,  still  relies  on 
his  own  favorite  ones,  to  sustain  his     radicalism.     Says     the 
Agrarian:    ''Here  is  my  rich  neighbor,  who  has  more  than  he 
can  possibly  use.  or  even  waste.     How  much  better  to  take 
away  a  part,  and  give  it  to  me.  who  need  a  little  capital  to  en- 
able me  to  be  a  producing  citizen.     You  will  thereby  benefit 
me,  the  state,  and  my  rich  nt^ghbor  himself :  for  he  is  so  rich 
that  it  is  an  actual  injury  to  him."    You  object,  that  the  rights 
of  property  are  in  the  way;  and  that  it  is  of  more  fundamental 
importance  to  the  state,  that  those  rights  should  be  protected, 
and  that  every  man  should  be  certain  of  the  rewards  of  his  in- 
dustry, than  that  property  should  be  etiually  distributed.  These 
■Ai-i'  m  his  eyes,  nothing  but  abstractions.    Why  should  a  citizen 
be  kei)t  back  from  obvious  and  present  advantage,  by  the  goss- 
amer threads  of  those  abstract  rights?     So  he  helps  himself 
liberally  to  his  neighbor's  property,  and  thus  becomes  a  man  of 
property  himself.    And  now.  lol  he  forthwith  invokes  those  ab- 
stract rights  of  property,  to  defend  his  new  acquisitions  against 
other  red-Republicans,  as  greedy  as  himself,  but  still  poorer. 
But  the  serious  and  lameniablc  point  about  all  this  decry- 


ABSTRACTIONISTS.  51 

iii^  of  abstractions  is.  that  where  it  is  intelligently  and  delib- 
erately uttered,  it  is  thoroughly  profligate.  What  is  it  all,  but 
a  demand  that  principle  shall  give  way  to  expediency?  All  the 
principles  of  morals,  in  their  last  analysis,  are  abstractions. 
The  distinction  between  right  and  wrong  is  an  abstraction,  as 
pure  and  disembodied  as  was  ever  presented  by  metaphysics. 
And  in  short,  the  difference  between  an  honest  man  and  a 
scoundrel,  is  but  this:  that  the  former  is  governed  by  a  general 
principle,  which  is  an  abstraction,  in  opposition  to  the  present 
concrete  prospect  of  utility;  while  the  latter  is  governed  by  his 
view  of  present  expediency,  in  opposition  to  the  general  princi- 
ple. What  else  do  we  mean  by  saying  that  a  man  is  unprinci- 
pled? In  the  eyes  of  such  a  man,  the  restraints  of  a  constitu- 
tion which  he  has  sworn  to  support,  are  abstractions,  whenever 
they  seem  to  oppose  the  present  dictates  of  expediency.  All 
those  broad  and  wise  considerations,  which  show  how  much 
more  important  is  a  consistent  adherence  to  general  principles, 
than  the  gain  of  a  temporary  and  partial  advantage  by  their  vio- 
lation, are  but  abstractions.  And  with  the  same  justice,  though 
with  greater  impiety,  it  rndght  also  be  said,  that  the  immutable 
principles  of  eternal  rectitude,  to  which  flod  coinpels  all  the 
interests  of  the  universe  to  bend,  at  whatever  ooist  of  individual 
misery,  are  abstractions.  What,  for  instance,  is  the  i)rinciple. 
which  constitutes  the  necessity  for  an  atonement?  What,  ex- 
cept that  necessary  connexion,  which  the  unchangeable  perfec- 
tions of  God  have  established  between  the  abstract  guilt  of 
sin,  and  the  penalty?  ''Now  here  is  a  penitent  man,''  says  the 
Socinian;  "a  wondrous  pious,  proper  man:  he  is  never  going  to 
sin  any  more:  (the  self-determining  power  'Of  his  own  will  has 
decided  that.)  Who  will  be  the  worse  for  his  pardon?  Why 
should  he  go  to  perdition,  poor  fellow,  for  a  mere  abstraction?" 
All  this  sneering  has  ever  sounded  mournfully  in  our  ears, 
as  a  revelation  of  the  unscrupulousness  of  the  age.  And  to  be 
called  an  abstractionist,  has  we  confess,  been  always  received 
rather  as  a  compliment,  than  a  rei)roach.  It  puts  us  in  ad- 
mirably good  company; — along  v.ith  all  the  profound  thinkers, 
and  the  stable,  noble  souls,  whose  brave  motto  has  been  ^'Obsta 
principiis."  And  when  the  philosopliic  historian  shall  come  to 
write,  in  future  ages,  the. hist orv  of  the  Decline  and  Fall  of  the 


52  ABSTRACTIONISMS. 

Empire  Republic,  lie  will  mark  it  as  the  most  giorioiis  tnbute 
to  the  public  virtue  of  one  school  of  our  statesmen,  that  they 
were  branded  by  unthinking  or  unscrupubus  adversaries,  as 
Abstractionists.  And  let  none  say,  that  in  these  words,  we  have 
violated  that  delicate  neutrality  towards  national  parties,  which 
becomes  a  religious  periodical.  The  honor  of  both  the  great 
parties  of  the  nation,  equally  approves  and  demands  the  senti- 
ment. For  the  sneer  would  have  seemed  as  profligate  and 
odious  in  the  ears  of  a  Hamilton  or  a  Marshall,  as  in  those  of  a 
Madison  or  a  Calhoun. 

"But.  is  there  not  a  style  of  reasoning,  which  calls  itself 
general  and  abstract,  which  is,  in  fact,  unreliable,  misty,  and 
deceptive?  This,"  some  will  say.  ''is  what  we  mean  by  abstrac- 
tions.'' Well,  good  reader,  you  express  your  meaning  very  un- 
fortunately. When  next  you  hear  men  using  propositions, 
which  they  suppose  general,  in  a  manner  vague  and  sophistical, 
we  pray  3'ou,  in  the  name  of  intelligence,  sound  lo^c.  and  sound 
principle,  do  not  express  your  dissent,  by  saying  that  they  are 
abstractions,    say  simply  that  they  are  untrue. 


THE  CRIMES  OF  PHILANTHROPY.' 

If  this  phrase  appear  to  auy  reader  paradoxical,  a  very  lit- 
tle reflection  will  convince  him  that  it  is  only  so  in  appearance. 
For,  the  greatest  organized  wrongs  which  the  civilized  world 
has  seen  perpetrated  in  modern  times,  upon  the  well-being  of 
mankind,  have  been  committed  under  the  amiable  name  of  hu- 
manity. Xo  despotic  government  now  avows  the  ruthless  pur- 
pose of  self-aggrandizement  and  of  the  gratification  of  hatred 
and  the  lust  of  power;  but  its  pretense  is  always  the  good  of 
society',  and  the  welfare  of  the  governed.  The  wars  of  the  ''Holy 
Alliance,"  which  drenched  Europe  in  blood  at  the  beginning  of 
this  century  were  all  undertaken  nominally  for  the  peace  and 
liberties  of  Europe.  No  demagogue  confesses,  in  popular  gov- 
ernments, the  greedy  ambition  or  avarice  which  proves  to  be 
his  secret  motive:  but  he  seeks  only  the  good  of  the  "dear  peo- 
ple," while  he  betrays  them  into  mischievous  anarchy  or  legis- 
lative atrocities. 

The  religious  persecutions,  which  have  made  nominal  Chris- 
tianity the  scourge  of  humanity,  have  all  professed  the  same 
kindly  purpose.  When  the  excellent  St.  Augustine  first  exerted 
his  influence  and  logic  to  make  them  respectable,  he  argued 
against  the  Donalists,  that,  as  the  parent  chastises  a  wayward 
son  to  save  him  from  the  ruin  of  his  vices;  or  as  a  physician 
rouses  the  lethargic  patient  by  pungent  cataplasms,  so  the 
church,  the  guardian  of  souls,  might  lovingly  rescue  her  way- 
ward children  from  the  curse  of  heresy,  by  imprisonments, 
fines  and  stripes.  And  this  is  the  argument  of  persecution  in 
all  ages.  All  the  racks,  the  funeral  pyres,  the  aiitos  da  fe  with 
which  the  Inquisition  blackened  Europe,  were  justified  by  this 
plea  of  love.  Men  were  slain  with  protracted  and  exquisite  tor- 
tures, out  of  mere  humanity,  and  to  save  their  beloved  souls  at 
the  expense  of  their  sinful  flesh.  It  was  from  the  same  amiable 
impulse  that  Simon  de  Monfort  went  from  the  devout  participa- 
tion in  the  Lord's  supper,  to  the  storming  and  sack  of  Albigen- 

1  Appeared  in  "Ttie  Land  We  Love:'     December,  1866.  53 


54  THE   CRIMES    OF    PHILANTHROPY. 

sian  towns,  and  ilie  butclicrv  of  tlicir  women  and  children. 
These  enormities  of  a  darker  age  are  now  as  much  deplored  by 
enlightened  and  liberal  Catholics  as  by  Protestants  themselves 
The  crusades  against  the  Moslems  also,  justified  their  incon- 
ceivable barbarities,  in  part  by  a  humane  pretence:  It  was  the 
protection  and  assistance  of  Holy  Palmers,  in  their  pilgrimages 
to  the  sacred  places  in  Palestine,  which  moved  the  crusaders, 
along  with  zeal  for  the  honor  of  Christ's  sepulchre. 

Another  instance  is  presented  by  the  cobnial  enterprises  of 
the  Spaniards  and  I'ortugese  in  tropical  America.    In  all  these 
voyages  and  wars,  which  entailed  upon  the  feeble  aborigines 
the  untold  horrors  of  extermination,  a  devout  and  philanthropic 
enthusiasm  was  an  active  cause.     Columbus  himself  was  as 
much  a  missionary  as  a  votary  of  science,  in  his  life-long  dreams 
of  discovery.    He  proposed  to  the  King  and  Queen  of  Spain  the 
extension  of  the  blessings  of  the  gospel,  as  much  as  of  their  em- 
pire, as  the  end  of  his  projects;  and  wherever  he  and  his  suc- 
cessors landed  upon  the  soil  of  America,  they  set  up  the  cross 
alongside  of  the  banner  of  Castile.    Of  the  Spanish  adventurers, 
Prescott  says:     "Their  courage  was  sullied  with  cruelty;  the 
cruelty  that  flowed  equally — strange  as  it  may  seem — from  their 
avarice  and  their  religion;  religion  as  it  was  understood  in  that 
age,  the  religion  of  the  crusader.    It  was  the  convenient  cloak 
for  a  multitude  of  sins,  which  covered  them  even  from  himself. 
The  Castilian,  too  proud  for  hypocrisy,  committed  more  cruel- 
ties in  the  name  of  religion,  than  were  ever  practiced  by  the 
pagan  idolater  or  the  fanatical  Moslem.     The  burning  of  the 
infidel  was  a  sacrifice  acceptable  to  heaven,  and  the  conversion 
of  those  w^ho  survived,  amply  atoned  for  the  foulest  offenses. 
It  is  a  melancholy  and  mortifying  consideration,  that  the  most 
ancompromlsing  spirit  of  intolerance — the  spirit  of  the  Inquisi- 
[or  at  home,  and  of  the  Crusader  abroad — should  have  emanat- 
ed from  a  religion  which  preached  peace  on  earth,  and  good 
will  towards  man!"    So,  the  contrast  between  Pizarro  and  his 
tw^o  partners,  for  the  conquest  of  Peru,  begins  by  invoking  in 
the  most  solemn  manner,  the  names  of  the  ''Holy  Trinity  and 
our  Lady  the  Blessed  Virgin.'' — "In  the  name  of  the  Prince  of 
Peace,"  says  Eobertson,  "they  ratified  a  contract,     of    which 
plunder  and  bloodshed  were  the  objects."     Of  the  same  tran- 


1'IIE    CRIIMES  OF    PlIILANTHltOPY.  5") 

gaetion  Prescott  reinarks:  "The  invocation  of  heaven  Vv'as  na- 
tural, where  the  object  of  the  undertaking,^  was,  in  part,  a  re- 
ligious one.  Religion  entered  more  or  less  into  the  theory,  at 
least,  of  the  Spanish  conquests  in  the  new  world."  *  «  * 
"It  was  indeed  a  fiery  cross  that  was  borne  over  the  devoted 
land,  scathing  and  consuming  it  in  its  terrible  progress;  but  it 
was  still  the  cross,  the  sign  of  man's  salvation,  the  only  sign  by 
which  generations  yet  unborn  were  to  be  rescued  from  eternal 
perdition." 

Thus  it  would  seem  the  piety  of  Christendom  has  projected 
itself  upon  Asia  and  America  as  a  flood  of  rapine  and  destruc- 
tion. Nor  can  the  Anglo-Saxon  race  of  Protestants  claim  ad- 
vantages over  the  Peninsular,  in  the  results  of  their  enterprises 
in  America,  as  to  the  aborigines.  They  crossed  the  ocean  pro- 
fessedly in  pursuit  of  freedom,  religious  liberty  and  cirilizatiou. 
The  consequence  of  their  appearance  has  been  likewise  the  ex- 
termination of  the  red  man. 

But  the  missions  planted  by  ecclesiastics  in  tropical  Amer- 
ica presented  a  still  more  glaring  perversion.  Until  the  begin- 
ning of  this  century,  in  some  of  these  missions,  military  expe- 
dirions  were  annually  equipped  by  the  holy  fathers,  against  the 
neighboring  pagan  tribes,  piously  termed  cazas  de  las  almas. 
"hunts  for  souls,"  for  the  purpose  of  capturing  as  many  per- 
sons as  they  could,  and  subjecting  them  to  a  compulsory  bap- 
tism and  training.  These  involuntar}-  converts  were  then  dis- 
tributed among  the  families  of  the  priests  or  the  Christianized 
Indians,  to  be  trained  by  servitude  to  habits  of  industry  and 
morality.  Thus,  armed  men  were  seen,  in  the  name  of  human- 
ity and  mercy,  assailing  and  burning  towns,  murdering  help- 
less families,  and  dragging  the  wretched  survivors  into  bondage 
with  all  the  ferocity  of  the  African  slave-catcher. 

When  the  cruelties  of  these  various  forms  of  religious  fa- 
naticism are  considered,  it  is  not  allowable  to  account  for  them 
by  asserting  the  conscious  hypocrisy  of  the  perpetrators.  From 
the  days  of  Saul  of  Tarsus  until  these,  many  a  persecutor  could 
doubtless  say,  that  they  ''verily  thought"  they  ought  to  do  these 
things.  In  many  a  scourge  of  humanity,  the  evidences  of  sin- 
cerity have  been  unquestionable;  and  the  general  inteerity  of 


56  THE   CRIMES    OF  PHILANTHROPY. 

character  has  served  only  to  enforce  the  rigor  of  their  deter- 
mination. 

In  the  instances  which  have  been  now  cited,  other  pur- 
poses haA'e  been  mixed  with  those  of  philanthro'py,  and  have 
perhaps  been  thv  main  ones,  whilc^  the  humane  designs  were 
secondary.  liut  yt4  more  remarkable  examples  have  occurred, 
where  the  most  cruel  intlictions  which  have  cursed  mankind, 
have  sprung  out  of  the  express  purpose  to  contmbute  ta  his  wel- 
fare; and  where  the  very  apostles  of  hummity  have  shown 
themselves  the  most  vindictive  towards  their  fellow  men.  The 
reader  of  history  will  recall  to  mind  that  the  African  slave 
trade,  with  all  its  jierpetual  intestine  wars,  its  burnings,  mas- 
sacres and  rapes,  its  chains  and  dungeons,  and  the  horrors  of 
the  "middle  passage,"  originated  in  a  compassionate  plan  of 
the  benevolent  r>arthoIom(Mv  Las  ("asas,  to  relieve  the  Indians 
of  the  Spanisli  Islands  from  the  burden  of  slavery.  It  was  his 
sympathy  with  their  suftVrings,  which  caused  him  to  invent  this 
expedient,  of  substituting  the  h.irdier  Xt^gro  under  the  yoke. 

But  the  eminent  instances  of  the  crimes  of  philanthropy  are 
those  O'f  our  own  age.  And  among  these,  none  stands  higher  in 
this  bad  eminence  tlian  the  ''reign  of  terror  '  under  the  ascen- 
dency of  the  French  democrats,  at  the  close  of  the  last  century. 
The  first  revolution  in  France  was  especially  the  work  of  its 
infidel,  humauitaiian  p]iiloso})liers;  who  taught  the  perfecti- 
bility of  human  nature,  th(^  natural  I'igiits  and  e<iuality  of  man, 
and  the  intrinsic  injustice  of  all  distinctions  of  rank;  who  traced 
to  these  all  the  'miseries  of  human  society,  and  heralded  tlie  ei-a 
of  political  equality  as  a  second  golden  age.  The  motto  of  the 
fiery  democrats  trained  in  their  school  was,  liberty,  equality^ 
fraternity.  They  boasted  that  their  missi(Ui  was  to  restore  to 
all  orders  of  men,  through  the  potency  of  these  principles,  that 
universal  happiness  and  harmony,  plenty  and  love,  of  which 
civilized  societies  had  hitherto  been  cheated  through  the  ma- 
lignant cunning  of  priests  and  magistrates.  Well,  they  over- 
turned the  throne,  the  nobility,  the  altar,  the  constitution;  they 
held  in  their  hands  the  naked  constituent  elements  o'f  the  com- 
monwealth, to  renijuld  them  as  they  listed,  and  to  give  the  full- 
est application  to  their  principles;  and  the  result  was  the  Reign 
of  Terror.     Marat    became  the  organ  of  tlu'  party  of  "liberty, 


THE    CRIMES    OF    PHILANTHROPY.  57 

equality,  and  fraternity"  through  the  press;  and  the  ferocious 
Danton  through  the  tribune.  The  former  through  iiis  newspa- 
per, V  Ami  du  Peuple,  croaked  his  perpetual  demands  f  jr  blood, 
like  a  ghoul,  saying  that  it  would  never  be  well  with  the  cause 
of  fraternity,  until  two  hundred  and  sixty  thousand  heads  fell 
before  it.  This  was  the  precise  number  of  the  human  heca- 
tombs, which  this  apostle  of  humanity  demanded,  ty  satiate  his 
Moloch.  Danton,  on  the  other  hand,  mDunted  the  tribune, 
which  was  the  pulpit  of  this  new  gospel  of  philanthropy,  to 
thunder  his  demands  for  accelerating  the  guillotine,  or  author- 
izing the  September  massacres.  And  it  was  ever  in  the  name 
of  this  amiable  cause,  that  Robespierre,  that  incarnation  jf 
snaky  cruelty,  devoted  :fresh  thousands  to  murder.  It  is  not 
necessary  to  repeat  the  pictures  of  this  seaison:  the  very  term. 
Reign  of  Terror,  carries  to  every  student  of  history  a  meaning 
more  descriptive  of  misery,  cruelty,  crime,  and  agony,  than  any 
details  could  convey.  The  total  of  these  sacrifices,  as  coolly  giv- 
en 'by  the  socialist  Proudhomme,  tells  the  tale  better  than  rhet- 
oric can  do  it;  it  was  one  million  and  twenty  two  thousand, 
made  up  as  f^dlows:  of  the  guillotined  in  Paris,  eighteen  thou- 
sand; victims  slain  or  executed  in  Lyons,  thirty-one  thousand; 
murdered  by  the  ferocious  Carrier  at  Nantes,  thirty-two  thou 
sand;  slain  in  battle,  niasisacre,  and  execution,  in  miserable  La 
Vendee,  nine  hundred  and  forty  thousand.  Of  this  total,  about 
fort^-five  thousand  were  women  and  children! 

From  that  day  to  this,  the  Jacobin  pai'ty  have  unfailingly 
exhibited  the  same  frightful  comttination  of  philanthroiwc  cant, 
with  a  truculent  ferocity  of  spirit.  '"With  their  tongues  they 
have  used  deceit;  the  poison  of  asps  is  under  their  lips."  And 
this  manifestation  is,  if  possible,  only  the  more  conspicuous, 
amidst  the  professed  Christianity  of  Old  and  New  England. 
Do  these  pretended  assertors  of  the  rights  of  man  organize 
themselves  as  Chartist  clubs?  Then  we  see  them  wielding,  as 
their  chosen  instruments,  against  all  who  presume  to  question 
the  safety  and  wisdom  of  their  plans,  fiery  invective  and  denun- 
ciation, the  incendiary's  torch,  and  secret  assault  or  assassina- 
tion. Or  does  the  Jacobin  creed  embody  itself  again  in  tlie 
professed  "Liberal  Party"  of  Bright  on  the  other  side  of  the  At- 
lantic, and  of  his  cousin-germans— the  progressives — on  this 
side?    Then  the  same  contrast  is  displayed  between  the  atrocity 


.1^  THE  CRIMffiS  OF  PHILANTHROPY. 

of  their  spirit,  and  the  humanity  of  theii'  pretensions,  by  the 
zest  with  which  the  latter  have  perpetrated,  and  the  former 
have  apphiuded,  the  recent  horrors  in  tbe  hite  Confederate 
States.  Humanity,  in  their  mouths,  means,  favor  to  those  who 
assist  their  overweening  and  headstrong  projects,  with  ruth- 
less injustice  and  violent  jjersecution,  robbery,  arson  and  mur- 
der, to  all  who  presume  to  doubt  their  propriety. 

This  recent  type  of  Jacobinism  illustrates  the  cruelty  of 
humanitarian  philanthropy  in  our  day,  by  two  of  its  favorite 
schemes,  abolition  of  negro  slavery,  and  the  Peace  Society.  The 
former,  in  the  British  colonies,  has  just  glorified  its  zeal  for  hu- 
man welfare,  by  converting  a  number  of  thousands  of  prosper- 
ous fellow  citizens  into  paupers  and  exiles,  and  a  race  of  con- 
tented, useful,  and  impro^dng  peasantry,  into  savages;  while  it 
is  now,  on  this  side  of  the  ocean,  '-in  the  full  tide  of  successful 
experiment,"  advancing  towards  the  same  benevolent  result. 
The  former  have  been  engaged  for  thirty  years,  in  painting  the 
horrors  of  war,  in  describing  with  moving  words,  the  prodigal 
waste  of  human  happiness  and  life  which  attends  it,  and  in  de- 
nouncing even  defensive  war,  as  an  invention  of  the  devil,  ut- 
terly unworthy  of  a  Christian  nation.  It  is  also  the  same  men 
usually,  who  declaim  against  the  harshness  and  barbarity  of 
the  capital  punishments  denounced  against  the  chief  crimes  by 
our  criminal  laws.  Xow  the  plain  people  amongst  us,  who  draw 
their  maxims  of  common  sense  from  the  Bible,  have  questioned, 
from  the  first,  the  genuineness  of  this  humanity;  it  appeared  to 
them  a  little  queer,  that  those  special  advocates  of  forbearance, 
were  almost  always  peculiarly  overbearing  in  their  temper 
towards  dissentients,  that  they  were  very  intolerant  in  their  ad- 
vocacy of  tolerance,  and  very  belligerent  in  the  tone  in  which 
they  urged  peace.  The  true  animus  of  the  party  was  correctly 
foreshadowed  by  the  spirit  of  one  of  its  members,  who  appear- 
ed, a  quarter  of  a  century  ago,  to  advocate  the  Peace  Principles, 
at  the  bar  of  a  dignified  ecclesiasUcal  assemblage  in  America, 
and  to  enlist  its  support  for  them.  In  his  bustling  labors  in  the 
lobby,  he  declared  that  Christianity  forbade  to  the  individual, 
and  to  society,  all  violent  resistance  of  injury;  that  to  retort  the 
intended  suffering  on  the  aggressor  was  inconsistent  with  true 
humanity:  and  that  all  which  was  necessary  to  disarm  assault, 
was,  for  everybody  to  practice  a  determined  passivity  and  non- 


THE  CHIMES  OF  PHILA  NTFIROPY.  59 

resisting  love.  The  members  of  the  body  which  he  addressed 
were  then  characterized  by  a  sturdy,  old-fashioned  sense,  for 
which  it  has  unfortunarely  not  been  since  so  causpicuons.  Thev 
attempted  to  induce  the  ardent  man  to  bring  Ids  princiijles  lome 
to  his  own  person,  in  such  a  case  as  the  following:  "Suppose 
that  some  son  of  Belial  should  attack  you  without  provocation, 
in  the  absence  of  all  legal  protection,  and  with  evident  purpose 
of  injury  to  life  or  limb:  what  would  you  do?"  ''I  should  de- 
clare my  purpose  of  non-resistance,"  he  replied,  "and  appeal 
with  confidence  to  his  conscience.  It  is  the  sight  of  resistance, 
which  gives  resolution  to  the  rising  impulses  of  aggression;  a 
thoroughly  peaceful  attitude  will  surely  awaken  the  better  na- 
ture of  an  assailant,  and  make  him  relent,  before  he  strikes." 
"Yea,  but,"  said  they,  ''there  are  men  in  whom  conscience  and 
the  better  nature  are  effectually  seared,  who  would  only  be  en- 
couraged by  the  pi'ospect  of  non-resistance."  "Still,"  answered 
he,  ''I  would  retain  my  passive  attitude,  and  display  the  majesty 
of  meekness,  so  that  it  would  be  impossible  for  him  actually  to 
strike."  And  these  boastful  words  he  uttered  with  an  air  of 
angry  assumption,  as  foreign  from  his  professed  meekness  as  it 
was  evidently  adapted  to  provoke  assault.  The  next  day,  the 
ecclesiastical  body  agreed,  out  of  respect  for  the  cause  of  hu- 
manity which  he  professed  to  advocate,  to  hear  his  views.  He 
urged  them  with  much  warmth  and  self-confidence,  to  adopt 
resolutions  committing  themselves  to  his  theory;  and  when  the 
O'bjections  of  sober  good  sense  were  urged,  flew  into  a  furious 
passion,  deno-unced  his  opponent.:^,  and  flung  himself  out  of  tlie 
house  in  true  fighting  temper. 

This  incident  gives  a  correct  type  of  the  combined  ignor- 
ance of  their  own  hearts  and  of  other  men's,  and  errors  of  rea- 
soning, 'by  which  this  sect  is  infested.  And  it  foreshadowed  pre- 
cisely, the  fiendish  temper  with  which  they  have  themselves  met 
the  shock  of  real  resistance.  When  they  found  a  people  who 
begged  to  be  excused  from  the  intrusions  of  their  unauthorized 
meddling,  and  the  propagation  of  their  pet  schemes  of  philan- 
thropy, these  peace-society  men,  who  denounced  even  defen.sive 
war  an  inhuman  crime;  who — shuddered,  sweet  souls! — at  the 
sight  of  a  drop  of  the  criminal  aggressor's  blood,  and  preferred 
that  it  should  be  spared  even  at  the  cost  of  the  blood  of  the  in- 
nocent; who  were  busy  sending  committees  to  the  Czar  as  the 


00  THE  CRIMES  OF  PHILANTHROPY. 

head  of  the  first  military  monarchy  of  Europe,  to  teach  him 
how  wicked  bayonets  were,  and  remonstrating  with  the  King  of 
Dahomey  against  his  royal  slave-hunts;  these  opponents  of  cap- 
ital punishments,  who,  more  merciful  than  the  "Father  of  Mer- 
cies," declared  that  it  was  quite  cruel  that  he  who  sheds  man's 
blo3d  should  have  his  blood  shed  by  m;in;  these  superfine  sen- 
timentalists, paused  in  their  sanctimonious  pastimes,  and,  al- 
most to  a  man,  passionately  joined  the  clamor  of  the  party,  who 
demanded  the  extermination  of  their  fellow  citizens,  for  the 
high  crimes  of  daring  to  have  opimions  of  their  own,  and  as- 
serting their  own  prescriptive  rights.  It  was  precisely  from 
this  quarter  that  the  loudest  howl  for  plunder,  murder,  fam- 
ine and  conflagration  came!  Abundant  proof  this,  that  the  I'ul- 
ing  motive  of  such  philanthropy  is  not  love,  but  an  intensely 
selfish  love  of  power,  mental  conceit,  and  hunger  for  applause. 

This  phenomenon  is  as  curious  as  it  is  mortifAing  to  the 
true  friend  of  humanity.  Hence  the  explanation  of  it  is  inter- 
esting, and,  if  it  can  be  accomplished,  profitable  to  all  such. 
An  attempt  will  be  made  towards  the  explanation,  by  setting 
worldly  philanthropy  in  contrast  with  true  Christianity.  Al- 
though the  former  is  perpetually  borrowing  the  name  and  lan- 
guage of  the  latter,  it  will  appear  that  they  are  contrasted  in 
their  principles,  and  the  principles  of  godliness  will  help  to  ex- 
plain those  of  the  counterfeit. 

Philanthropy  proposes  as  its  end,  advantage  to  man. 
Christianity  declares  that  man's  chief  end  is  to  glorify  God,  and 
enjoy  Him  forever.  Its  doctrine  is  that  "(^lod  hath  made  all 
things  for  Himself;  yea,  even  the  wicked  also  for  the  day  of 
evil'';  that  "of  Him,  and  through  Him,  and  to  Him  are  all 
things;  to  whom  be  glory  for  ever  and  ever."  Its  one  precept 
is:  "Thou  shalt  love  the  Lord  thy  God  with  all  thy  heart,  and 
soul,  and  mind,  and  strength;  and  thy  nenghbor  as  thyself." 

It  is  very  true  that  the  humanitarians,  clamorously  reject 
this  great  proposition  as  an  odious  dogma.  Just  here,  then, 
they  and  God  join  issue.  They  say  that  since  disinterestedness 
is  the  property  of  every  virtuous  act,  and  selfishness  is  the  hate- 
ful root  of  vice,  in  all  other  beings,  it  would  be  immoral  in  God, 
thus  to  propose  Himself  as  His  own  supreme  end,  and  to  arro- 
gate to  Himself  the  services  of  all  creatures,  exhausting  their 
well-being  upon  Himself.    They  urge  that  this  would  be  selfish- 


tJtE  CRiMfiS  Ot*  l*HlLA^THttOt»y.  6l 

ness  more  enoiinous  than  that  of  sinful  men,  just  as  its  claims 
are  more  vast.  They  exclaim  that  this  scheme  makes  God  the 
great  egotist  of  the  universe.  On  the  conti-ary,  they  display  tlieir 
own  scheme  in  enviable  contrast  for  its  disintererstedness,  as 
making  the  welfare  of  our  fellow  men  the  chief  end. 

These  cavils  against  the  Christian  law  assume  that  it  is  in- 
trinsically wrong  for  a  being  to  direct  his  aims  to  liis  own  well- 
being.  But  this  is  not  true.  There  is  a  sense  in  which  self-love 
is  lawful,  even  for  a  creature;  yea,  the  absence  of  it  may  be 
positive  sin.  There  is  another  reason  why  the  selfishness  of 
fallen  man  is  criminal :  It  is  because  a  question  of  prior  right 
intervenes.  Our  Creator  puts  in  claims  to  the  fruits  of  our  ex- 
istence, which  are  superior  to  all  others;  and  therefore  it  is  sin 
to  be  supremely  selfish,  because  it  robs  our  Maker  of  that  which 
we  received  of  Him.  But  God  is  indebted  to  none  for  His  ex- 
istence and  powers.  He  alone  is  eternal,  uncaused,  and  inde- 
pendent. Obviously  then,  it  is  invalid  to  reason  that,  because, 
in  a  creature,  supreme  egotism  would  be  an  odious  crime,  there- 
fore it  would  be  a  vice  in  the  uncreated  God.  That  regard  for 
one's  own  well-being  which,  even  in  the  creature,  may  be  a 
proper  subordinate  end,  may  be  in  the  Creator  a  most  righteous 
supreme  end. 

But  Christianity  can  defend  itself  with  more  positive  ar- 
guments upon  this  point.  God,  being  immutable,  is  ever  actuat- 
ed by  the  same  motives.  But  when  His  eternal  purpose  of  crea- 
tion and  providence  subsisted  in  His  mind,  "before  He  had 
made  the  highest  part  of  the  dust  of  the  earth,"  or  laid  the 
foundations  of  the  heavens.  He  must  have  been  self-moved  there- 
to; for  the  irrefragable  reason,  that  nothing  else  existed  besides 
Himself,  to  be  a  motive.  Is  it  said  that  creatures,  the  future 
recipients  of  His  beneficence,  were  present  in  thought,  and  were 
the  motives  of  His  pui'pose?  The  reply  is  at  hand,  that  they 
existed  as  yet,  onl}^  in  His  purpose;  which  purpose  was  the  ex- 
pression of  His  own  subjective  desire  and  impulse  alone,  seeing 
nothing  but  Himself  existed.  Hence  the  very  purpose  to  create 
creatures  to  be  the  recijnents  of  His  bounty,  was  simply  the  re- 
sult of  self-gratification,  because  the  perfections  of  nature 
thereby  indulged  were  infinitely  benignant.  But  whatever  was 
God's  motive  in  the  earliest  eternity,  is  His  motive  still;  for  He 
is  without  'S'ariableness,  or  shadow  of  turning." 


62  THK  CK1M;ES  of  rillLANTilliOPY. 

When  it  is  remembered  that  we  are  creatures,  it  is  easily 
concluded,  that  our  highest  duty  is  to  God.  He  is  the  author  of 
our  existence,  our  powers,  ^ur  happiness,  and  supporter  of  our 
nature.  He  is  our  proprietor,  in  a  sense  so  high  that  all  other 
forms  of  ownership  almost  vanish  away,  when  set  beside  God's. 
He  is,  moreover,  by  His  own  perfections,  the  pr^perest  object 
of  all  reverence,  homage,  and  suitable  service.  Ko  that,  mani- 
festly, it  is  the  highest  virtue  in  the  creature,  that  he  should 
offer  to  God  the  supreme  tribute  of  his  being  and  service.  But 
if  it  is  obligatory  on  the  creature  to  offer  this,  it  cannot  be 
wrong  in  God  to  accept  it. 

Hence,  we  repeat,  God's  most  proper  ultimate  end,  in  all 
His  creation  and  government,  is  the  gratification  of  His  own 
adorable  perfections  in  His  acting.  And  the  creature's  highest 
duty  is  nor  chiefly  to  seek  his  own  good,  or  that  of  his  fellow- 
creatures;  but  the  glory  of  God.  He  is  the  center,  in  whom 
originated  all  beings,  and  to  whom  all  should  tend.  His  will 
and  glory  is  the  keystone  of  the  whole  moral  order  of  the  uni- 
verse. As  it  was  the  gratification  of  His  infinite  activity  which 
originated  all  creature  existences,  with  all  their  powers  of  do- 
ing and  enjoying,  so  it  is  His  self-prompted  desire  to  diffuse  His 
infinite  beneficence,  which  is  the  spring  of  all  the  well-being  in 
the  universe.  And  here  is  the  conclusive  answer  to  the  cavil 
which  we  have  been  discussing:  How  can  it  be  selfishness  in 
God  to  make  the  gratification  of  His  own  nature  His  supreme 
law.  where  that  nature  is  infinitely  unselfish  and  benevolent? 
In  this  light,  the  objection  is  seen  to  be  of  a  piece  with  that 
w'retched  philosophizing  which  argues,  that,  because  the  losing 
mother,  the  sympathizing  benefactor,  are  actuated  by  their  own 
subjective  inipuls(\  in  succoring  the  objects  of  their  kindness, 
and  find  pleasure  in  the  act.  therefore  ir  is  not  disinterested. 
Common  sense,  as  true  philosophy,  replies:  aye,  but  is  not  the 
pleasure  itself  a.  pleasure  in  disinterestedness?  What  higher 
definition  of  a  disinterested  nature  can  be  given,  than  to  say 
that  its  most  instinctive  pleasure  is  in  doing  good? 

Thus,  as  God's  own  most  suitable  end  is  the  satisfaction  of 
His  own  excellent  perfections;  s:)  the  creature's  chief  end  is  to 
glorify  and  enjoy  Him.  This  benevolent  (Jod  has,  of  course, 
given  the  duties  of  benevolence  to  man  a  large  place  in  the  law 
which  he  has  enacted  for  men;  but  even  in  our  freest  acts  of 


THE  CKIMKS  OF  PHILAiSTHnopy.  63 

beneficence  to  oiu-  fellows,  we  are  required  to  have  a  reference 
siipreiuely  to  Him  whose  creariu-es  they  are.  Love  to  oiir  neigh- 
bor is  to  be  a  corollary  from  love  to  our  God.  We  are  chiefly  to 
seek  His  glory  in  their  good,  as  in  our  own;  and  these  are  al- 
ways in  complete  haraiDny.  Hence  it  follows  that  whenever 
man  makes  his  own.  or  Ms  fellows'  good  his  diief  end,  he  neces- 
sarily comes  short  of  that  good;  and  the  only  way  to  gain  it,  is 
to  seek  the  higher  eijd.  Nor  is  there  a  paradox,  when  we  thus 
say,  that  in  order  that  man  may  truly  attain  his  own  well-being, 
he  must  truly  prefer  something  else  to  it.  Is  it  not  a  parallel, 
and  an  admitted  truth,  to  say,  that  it  is  only  when  the  virtuous 
man  ])refers  some  better  end  than  applause,  in  his  actions,  that 
they  are  truly  virtuous  and  deserving  of  applause?  An  instruc- 
tive instance  of  this  grear  law  of  our  well-being  is  found  by 
every  one  in  common  life.  Who  has  not  experienced  this:  that 
the  days  and  the  efforts  which  have  been  especially  devoted  to 
our  own  enjoyment,  have  usually  disappointed  us  of  enjoyment, 
while  the  days,  which  we  devote  primaiily  to  duty,  are  thicldy 
strewn  with  wayside  flowers  of  unexpected  pleasure? 

Christian  philanthropy  derives  its  efficiency,  no  less  than 
its  purity,  from  this,  that  it  all  flows  froaii  the  Christian's  love 
of  liis  (rod.  He  is  an  object,  who  never  disappoints  us,  who 
never  changes  nor  forgets;  who  never  shows  Himself  forgetful 
or  neglectful  of  our  affectionate  service;  who  never  disgusts  our 
efforts  by  unworthiness;  and  who  has  pledged  the  most  gen- 
erous reward  to  every  true  act  of  lunnanity.  But  if  we  make 
man  our  chief  end.  he  usually  shews  himself,  soon,  unworthy 
to  be  our  end.  He  alienates  our  love;  he  disgusts  us  by  the 
follies  and  crimes  which  cruelly  counteract  our  efforts  for  his 
good;  he  renders  us  indignant  by  his  ingratitude.  Such  an  idol 
as  this  can  never  animate  us  with  a  devotion,  which  will  rise 
to  the  pure  and  enduring  self-sacrifice  of  Christian  charity. 
Hence,  if  for  no  worse  reason,  worldly  philanthropy  is  ever  fee- 
ble, unsteady,  evanescent. 

But  it  is  time  to  pursue,  in  turn,  this  part  of  the  contrast. 
The  latter  si-heme  proposes  as  our  most  proper  and  virtuous 
end,  not  (Jod's  glory;  (this  would  be,  say  they,  to  make  God  the 
infinite  egotist)  but  man's  good.  Advantage  to  man  is  its  high- 
est aim.  And  this,  the  humanitarian  claims,  is  true  disinter- 
estedness.   'Y:\\\^  forbids  titHisliuess  as  the  ruling  motive  to  man, 


H  t^D  cMMeS  oil  PHlLANTIil?Ol»V. 

as  it  disclaims  it  for  Grod.    (Might  they  not  as  well  say  at  once 
forbids    it  to  God,  also;  and  thus  disclose  their  real  impiety?) 
This,  therefore,  they  urge,  is  the  true,  the  morally  beautiful  and 
amiable  theory  of  life. 

Let  us  see.  By  what  logic  can  it  be  justly  denied  that 
whatever  is  made  our  highest  ultimate  end  is  practically  made 
our  God?  It  is  nothing  to  the  purpose  that  names  and  titles 
are  politely  exchanged,  and  man  is  still  called  the  creature,  and 
Jehovah  the  God.  Virtually,  the  aggregate  of  humanity  is 
made  our  true  divinity,  by  being  made  our  moral  end;  and  Je- 
hovah is  only  retained  (if  retained  at  all)  as  a  sort  of  omnipo- 
tent conveniency  and  Servitor  to  this  creature-God.  Further, 
this  result  is  immediately  seen  to  be  involved;  that,  inasmuch 
as  the  philanthropist  is  himself  a  part  of  this  aggregate  human- 
ity, "by  nature  equal"  to  any  other  part,  he  is  a  part  of  his  own 
God!  He  liimself  is,  in  part  at  least,  his  own  supreme  end!  Is 
there  no  inkling  of  a  supreme  egotism  here? 

But  now,  if  humanity  is  our  supreme  end,  and  if  this  hu- 
manity is  as  truly  embodied  in  one  individual  of  the  race,  as 
in  all,  and  if  each  individual  is  "by  nature  equal";  by  what 
valid  argument  shall  that  man  be  refuted  in  the  interests  of 
philanthropy,  who  shall  choose  to  say,  that  he  recognizes  in 
that  humanity  embodied  in  himself,  his  own  nearest,  and  most 
attainable  end?  He  may  plausibly'  add,  tliat  nature  herself 
sanctions  this  conclusion,  by  the  powerful  and  instinctive  princi- 
ple of  self-love  which  she  has  implanted;  and  yet  more  forcibly, 
that  since  man's  finite  powers  can  only  serve  this  aggregate 
humianity,  by  serving  some  individual  or  indi\-iduals  within  it, 
and  efforts  directed  equally  to  the  whole  must  be  wholly  nuga- 
tory; and  since  nature  has  given  to  each  man  more  efficient 
means  to  influence  his  own  destiny  than  that  of  any  other  man, 
and  more  direct  responsibility  therefor,  it  is  ob^ious  that  his 
truest  virtue  will  be  to  seek  his  own  personal  good,  in  prefer- 
ence to  that  of  any,  or  of  all  others?  Such  is  precisely  the 
process,  stated  with  analytic  precision,  which  passes  in  an  in- 
volved and  semi-conscious  form,  through  the  minds  of  myriads 
af  the  children  of  this  world,  determining  them  to  the  supreme 
indulgence  of  selfishness.  Is  not  this  but  an  expansion  of  the 
process  by  which  Hobbes,  that  "Leviathan"  of  infidel  philoso- 


The  crimes  of  philanthropy.  65 

phers,  concluded,  thiu  the  normal  state  of  man  was  a  contest  of 
each  individual's  supreme  self-love  against  each  other's? 

And  now,  by  what  argument  shall  it  be  refuted,  from  the 
humanitarian  premises?  Will  men  attempt  it,  by  adopting  the 
scheme  of  Jonathan  Edwards,  which  defined  virtue  as  "love  to 
being  in  general,"'  and  required  the  first  love  to  be  given  to  the 
greatest  aggregate  of  being?  Will  they  say  that  one  should 
prefer  the  good  of  mankind  to  his  own,  because  the  race  offers 
a  larger  aggregate  of  humanity  than  the  individual?  This  will 
hardly  be  ventured  at  this  day,  after  the  extravagant  deduc- 
tions of  Godwin's  Political  Justice  have  displayed  the  absur- 
dity of  the  theory.  But  besides,  since  the  devil  and  Ids  angels 
are  exceedingly  numerous,  and  creatures  majestic  in  natural 
endowments  compared  with  man.  it  is  probable  that  they  pre- 
sent a  greater  aggregate  of  being  than  mankind;  whence  it 
would  follow,  that  we  are  morally  bound  to  prefer  the  welfare 
of  demons  to  that  of  men.  Shall  the  theory  be  amended,  then, 
by  saying  that  it  is  the  largest  aggregate  of  virtuous  being,  only, 
which  claims  our  preference,  and  first  love?  Then,  first,  suffer- 
ing humanity  would  share  least;  because  ours  is  a  guilty  and 
depraved  race;  and  usually,  men's  miseries  (and  so  their  need 
of  philanthropic  aid)  are  in  proportion  to  their  sins.  And  sec- 
(uid:  since  God  presents  immeasurably  the  largest  aggregate  of 
virtuous  being,  this  leads  ns  back  to  God  as  our  supreme  end; 
l)recisely  the  result  which  the  humanitarian  desires  to  shun. 

Or  will  the  refutation  of  inordinate  selfishness  be  sought 
from  the  more  harmless  theory  of  Jouffroy;  that,  as  the  human 
i-eason,  educated  by  experience,  compares  the  instinctive  de- 
sires of  its  fellow  men  for  their  personal  good,  with  its  own,  it 
recognizes  their  eqtiality,  and  generalizes  the  law  of  the  golden 
rule,  as  the  proper  moral  order  of  the  whole?  The  ready  answer 
is,  that  if  this  is  the  moral  order,  then  it  is  recognized  by  the 
■pure  reason  as  the  obligatory  order.  But  obligation  implies  an 
obligator;  so  that,  by  this  process  again,  we  are  led  back  to  God; 
and  our  virtue  is  made  to  consist  in  conformity  to  his  supreme 
will.  But,. if  the  moral  is  rightfully  the  dominant  faculty  in 
man,  does  not  this  also  make  God  our  supreme  end? 

We  reaffirm  the  charge,  that  on  humanitarian  grounds,  an 
absolute  selfishness  is  a  logical  conclusion;  so  that  the  boast  of 
disinterestedness  which  tliey  make,  is  found  hollow;  and  the 


66  THE  CRIMES  OF  PHIL AJS' THRO PY. 

reproach  they  attempt  to  cast  upon  Christianity  is  retorted  up- 
on themselves.  It  is  a  isigniflcant  confirmation  of  this  charge, 
that  tliis  egotistical  conclusion  has  been  expressly  avowed  by 
one  school  among  those  most  subtile  of  anti-Christian  philoso- 
phers, the  G-erman  Idealists.  This  party,  asserting  that  the 
whole  materials  of  human  thought  are  to  be  found  in  the  data 
of  our  consciousness  alone,  then  declare,  that  consciousness 
gives  us  naught  but  our  own  ideas,  that  what  we  delusively  call 
the  objective  sources  of  our  sensations  and  perceptions,  are 
nothing  more  than  the  necessary  limitations  of  our  own  thought 
and  feeling.  Thus  no  evidence  remains  for  the  existence  of  an 
'Outer  world  of  either  mind  or  spirit  distinct  from  the  conscious 
self;  and  the  only  universe  Which  remains  is  the  something 
which  thinks.  Self,  God,  the  world,  are  reduced  to  one;  and 
that  one  is  not  a  personal  being,  but  an  eternal  impersonal  pow- 
er of  thought.  "Now,"  says  the  German  Pantheist,  in  the  last 
refinements  of  his  frightful  theory;  ''since  I,  God,  humanity, 
are  one,  let  either  God  or  humanity  be  the  proper  end  of  exist- 
ence, since  these  are  only  developed  consciously  to  me  in  my- 
self, self  is  the  nearest  and  properest  object  to  receive  this  su- 
I)reme  homage;  and  absolute  self-gratification  is  my  highest  ra- 
tional end.  Whatever  I  happen  to  prefer  is  to  me,  the  truest 
and  chiefest  good;  whatever  I  happen  to  will,  is  the  highest 
right." 

Hence  the  reflecting  man  need  not  'be  surprised  to  find  these 
humanitarians,  who  set  out  with  the  proudest  boasts  of  benevo- 
lence,' end  with  the  most  engrossing  selfishness.  The  highest 
professors  of  this  creed  have  ever  been  the  most  cruel  of  men. 

The  inipotency  of  this  system  for  good  is  farther  explained 
by  comparison  with  another  law  of  Christian  benevolence.  As 
the  latter  is  founded  on  the  love  of  God,  for  its  motive,  and 
looks  to  a  future  recompense  for  its  personal  reward,  so  it  re- 
quires the  Christian  who  "would  go  about  doing  good,"  to  re 
semble  his  Saviour  in  his  spirit  of  self-sacrifice.  Says  the  Apos- 
tle John:  "Hereby  perceive  we  the  love  (of  God)  because  He 
laid  down  His  life  for  us;  and  we  ought  to  lay  down  our  lives 
for  the  brethren"— and  Paul,  suffering  for  God's  people,  "filled 
up  that  which  was  behind  of  the  afflictions  of  Christ,  in  his 
flesh  for  His  body's  sake,  which  is  the  church."  It  is  true  that 
to  purchase  atoning  merit,  or  make  satisfaction  to  Divine  jus- 


ITIE  CRIMES  OF  PHILANTHROPY.  67 

tice  for  others'  guilt  is  a  liijj;li  pivrojijative,  iu  which  the  suti'er- 
iiig:s  of  the  Son  of  (lad  must  be  forever  unapproachable.  But 
in  the  lower  sense,  there  is  a  true  analogy  between  the  work 
of  the  ''Man  of  Sorrows,"  when  he  "bare  our  grief,  and  carried 
our  sorrows,"  and  the  beneficence  of  his  followers.  In  all  their 
efforts  to  relieve  human  isuffering  Christians  must  suffer  vicar- 
iously: they  can  only  lift  olf  the  burden  of  a  fellow  man,  by 
bearing  a  part  of  it  themselves.  Their  philanthro])ic  ministry  is 
destined  to  be,  like  the  humiliation  of  their  Redeemer,  essen- 
tially a.  season  of  trial;  although  clieered  by  not  a  few  of  those 
glimpses  of  solace  drawn  by  hope  from  "the  gloi-y  that  should 
follow,"  which  caused  Christ,  in  the  midst  of  His  toils  to  "re- 
joice in  spirit."  The  glory  and  blessedness  are  chietiy  future, 
and  are  with  (rod.  Now  these  are  the  conditions  of  a  life  of 
true  philanthropy;  and  the  Christian's  faith  arms  him  with 
forces  which  enable  him  to  fulfill  them.  But  not  so  the  phil- 
anthropy of  the  humanitarian.  Its  good  element  is  nothing  more 
than  the  natural  law  of  sympathy.  As  this  word  indicates,  this 
reflected  emotion  shares  the  pain  by  which  it  is  excited;  but  the 
effort  to  relieve  that  pain  is  also  succeeded  by  an  instinctive 
j)leasure,  which  in  man's  imperfect  heart  is  never  wholly  dis- 
interested, but  involves  some  elements  of  iself-love,  and  appe- 
tite for  applause.  So  it  appears  that  the  calculated  end  of  all 
such  acts  of  beneficence  is  this  personal  pleasure.  Does  one 
say,  that  sympathy  also  acts  by  an  instinctive  and  involuntary 
impulse?  True;  but  can  an  uncalculating  instinct  be  relied  on. 
to  produce  and  regulate  a  systematic  life  of  benevolence?  Nay 
verily — man  will  never  be  nerved  to  the  habitual,  sustained  en- 
durance of  suffering,  by  an  impulse  to  personal  pleasure:  it  is 
contradiction. 

One  other  fact  remains  to  be  mentioned,  which  the  humani- 
tarian studiously  ignores,  but  which  the  Bi'ble  asserts.  None 
but  God  can  truly  elevate  fallen  and  sutfering  humanity.  Death, 
and  all  the  ills  which  are  its  foretastes,  caime  'by  sin;  and  sin 
reigns  in  human  hearts,  with  a  dominion  which  nothing  but  oin- 
nipotent  power  can  break.  All  that  human  love  can  do  is  to 
labor  with  God.  as  humble  instruments,  looking  and  praying 
that  He  may  give  "the  preparation  of  the  heart,"  and  lift  \\\i  the 
sufferers  by  a  true  and  permanent  restoration.  Moreover,  if  our 
toils  are  a  failure  as  to  their  objects,  by  reason  of  the  withhold- 


68  THE  CRIMES  OF  PHILANTHROPY. 

ing  of  this  sovereign  agency,  they  cannot  be  a  failure  as  to  God's 
glory  and  our  recompense.  These  are  sure,  whether  the  sufferer 
rise  or  sink,  if  our  efforts  are  made  in  iove  and  faith.  But  now, 
it  is  manifest  from  this  great  truth,  as  it  is  shown  by  actual  ex- 
perience, Xh^lfailure  must  be  the  result  of  all  unbelieving  phil- 
anthropy, in  the  end.  Its  objects  refuse  to  be  rescued  thorough- 
ly; or  they  sink  again.  In  asserting  this,  we  take  our  stand  up- 
on the  field  of  history,  and  boldly  ask:  where  is  the  human  de- 
vice for  the  amelioration  of  man's  sin  and  misery,  which  has 
not  terminated,  sooner  or  later,  in  failure?  Where  is  the  form 
of  liberal  government,  the  moral  reform  society,  the  temper- 
ance society,  the  agency  of  civilization,  which  has  accomplished 
its  work,  and  preserved  it?  But  when  this  worldly  philanthropy 
fails,  as  fail  it  must,  what  is  to  solace'  its  mortification,  its  dis- 
appointed self-love,  its  indignation  at  the  unworthiness  of  its 
objects? 

Another  application  of  the  fact  of  human  depravity  re^ 
mains;  it  affects  the  philanthropists  themselves,  as  well  as  their 
!>bjects.  Their  justice,  benevolence,  and  sympathy  are  imper- 
fect fragments  amidst  the  ruins  of  their  fallen  nature.  These 
ruins,  none  but  God  can  reconstruct;  and  this  He  does  through 
the  grace  revealed  in  Christianity.  The  discussion  has  hither- 
to 'been  conducted  upon  the  assumption  claimed  by  the  human- 
itarians, that  the  motives  prompting  their  intervention  were  in- 
nocent; and  all  that  has  been  hitherto  urged  is  their  insuffi- 
ciency. But  this  is  not  the  whole  of  the  argument.  God's  in- 
fallible truth  declares  that  all  men,  the  philanthropists  and  the 
sufferers,  the  pliilosophers  and  their  pupils,  are  fallen  creatures; 
that  true  righteousness  is  overpowered  in  them  by  sin,  that  the 
partial  good  impulses  which  remain  as  the  reliques  of  paradise 
are  inferior  and  weak,  and  that  the  various  elements  of  selfish- 
ness are  in  the  ascendant  in  every  unregenerate  will.  Partial 
impulses  of  social  affection,  of  generosity,  of  sympathy,  of  hon- 
or, illuminate  in  different  degrees  the  natures  of  these  men; 
and  far  be  it  from  us  to  deny  their  sincerity,  but  they  are  not 
in  the  permanent  ascendant.  Sin  is  the  ruler  and  tyrant  of  all 
natural  hearts.  Now,  if  these  things  are  indeed  so,  and  the  hu- 
manitarians obstinately  refuse  to  admit  them,  their  blindness 
to  the  nature  of  their  own  motives  only  aggravates  their  reck- 
lessness, and  the  danger  of  mischief.    Is  their  intervention  for 


THE  CRIMES  OF  PHILANTHROPY.  69 

tlieir  suffering  fellow  men  prompted  by  genuine  sympatln'?  Let 
it  be  admitted;  but  this  principle  is  unstable;  and  so  surely  as 
they  are  men,  the  other  principles,  love  of  power,  iDve  of  ap- 
plause, conceit,  pride,  ambition,  self-righteousness,  or  some  of 
them,  are  mingled  in  some  ratio,  in  every  beneficent  action.  Let 
the  unworthinetss  or  ingratitude  of  the  objects,  or  mortifica- 
tion of  failure,  or  opposition  concerning  the  methods  of  benevo 
lence,  supervene,  and  how  easily,  how  naturally,  do  the  move- 
ments of  philanthropy  slide  into  those  of  the  malignant  emo- 
tions. Thus  is  generated  the  monster,  fanaticism;  in  which  all 
that  remains  of  the  beneficent  purpose  is  a  pretext,  to  blind  the 
mind  of  the  fanatic  to  the  true  nature  of  his  emotions,  and  to 
sanctify  to  himself  all  their  enormities.  The  cold  and  glittering 
enthusiasm  of  the  imagination  is  coimbined  with  the  malignant 
passions  of  self-displaj^,  lust  of  power,  and  hatred;  and  the 
whole,  borrowing  the  sacred  name  of  philanthropy,  goes  forth 
upon  its  destroying  career. 

The  true  character  of  this  fanaticism  may  be  disclosed  by 
easy  tests.  If  love  were  tlie  true  spring  of  its  pretended  zeal, 
tliat  benignant  emotion  ought  to  dis])lay  itself  consistently,  in 
the  general  life,  and  especially  in  the  daily  practiced  duties  of 
home  and  family,  which  should  hold  the  first  place  in  every 
healthy  conscience.  But  when  the  private  life  of  your  fiery  de- 
claimer  against  social  wrongs  is  examined,  it  is  usually  found 
to  be  characterized  by  domestic  harshness,  injustice  and  selfish- 
ness; his  wife,  his  children,  his  servj'.nts,  feel  little  of  that 
abounding  beneficence  which  he  delights  to  ventilate  abroad 
concerning  the  wrongs  of  the  distant  and  unknown.  On  the 
other  hand,  the  men  of  practical  kindliness,  who  actualh^  exer- 
cise a  generous  and  self-denying  benevolence,  in  that  home- 
s[)here,  where  benevolence  is  most  practicable,  are  seldom  found 
among  these  self-constituted  assertors  of  the  wrongs  of  human- 
ity. Moreover,  let  any  individual  among  the  pretended  objects 
of  his  sympathy  be  brought  to  their  own  door,  and  thrown  upon 
this  actual  help;  he  will  be  very  likely  to  find  it  a  most  unsub- 
stantial dei)endence.  The  fiery  philan-fhropist  will  speedily 
reach  him  that  while  he  is  very  willing  to  gratify  Ms  malice  by 
scolding  his  opponents,  or  his  pride  by  parading  his  benevo- 
lence, he  has  little  thought  of  sacrificing  either  his  own  money 
or  convenience  for  the  sufferer. 


70  THE  CRIMES  OF  PHILANTHROPY. 

F'rom  this  pisition,  the  mischievous  and  corniptiiij?  effects 
of  preached  crusades  against  organized  siocial  systems  which 
are  supposed  to  be  evil,  receives  a  facile  explanation.  Chris- 
tianity and  its  true  ministers  make  it  their  main  business  to  ad- 
dress the  individual;  and  their  topics  are  his  own  duties  and 
sins.  They  separate  him,  they  tell  him  his  spiritual  necessities; 
they  say:  "Thi»u  art  the  man";  they  tfMcli  him  to  make  his  own 
spiritual  amendment  his  chief  care.  Thus,  by  sanctifying  each 
individual,  human  society  is  effectually  regenerated;  and  or- 
ganic evils  easily  disappear.  Hut  when  once  the  pulpit  is  per- 
verted to  declaim  habitually  against  the  public  sins  of  com- 
munities, and  to  agitate  for  their  reform,  the  individual  is  en- 
couraged to  loise  sight  of  his  own  errors  (the  only  ones  he  is  re- 
sponsible for,  or  able  to  reform),  and  to  occupy  himself  with  the 
wrong-doings  of  others.  But  these  are  of  course,  painted  in 
constant  contrast  with  his  own  rectitude;  so  that  this  preaching, 
in.stead  of  inculcating  humility  and  sanctity,  is  nothing  but  a 
aninistratian  of  spiritual  pride,  arrogance,  and  hatred.  And 
hence  its  popularity.  It  is  much  more  agreeable  to  an  evil 
heart,  to  be  reniind(Hl  of  its  own  superior  excellence,  and  to  be 
invited  to  the  work  of  reviling  its  opponents,  than  to  be  sum- 
moned to  the  toils  of  self-discipline,  the  mortifications  of  per- 
sonal contrition,  and  the  crucifixion  of  carnal  affections. 


REPLYOFR.  LDABNEY,  I).  D, 

To  the  Letter  of  General  Joseph  E.  Johnston,  Criticising 
Dr.  Dabney's  Narrative  of  the  First  Battle 
of  Manassas. 
To  the  Editors  of  Richmond  Dispatch,  June  21,  1861 . 

(Tentleiiieii:  Accident  recently  brought  to  my  attention  the 
remarks  published  in  your  paper  .of  March  24:th  by  General  Jo- 
seph E.  Johnston  upon  the  narration  of  the  part  borne  by  the 
Stonewall  brigade  in  the  battle  of  Manassas  contained  in  niij 
life  of  (leneral  T.  J.  Jackson.  So  far  as  these  corrections  have 
revealed  error  in  my  statements,  I  receive  them  thankfully,  and 
shall  not  fail  to  employ  them,  as  soon  as  it  is  in  w\\  power,  for 
the  perfecting  of  the  accuracy  of  my  narration.  The  high  posi- 
tion and  services  of  General  Johnston,  which  none  honor  and 
appreciate  more  ci)rdially  than  myself,  do  indeed  render  it  al- 
most a  presumptuous  attempt  to  question  the  correctness  of  any 
of  his  representations,  especially  when  made  by  one  in  my  ob- 
scure place.  But  even  to  such  a  one  the  reputation  for  integrity 
of  purpose,  at  least,  is  very  jtrecious.  I  therefore  beg  leave  to 
exhibit  in  your  columns  some  of  the  testimonies  by  which  I  sup- 
pose myself  to  be  sustained  in  the  statements  made.  1  hope  ev- 
ery reader  will  be  charitable  enough,  when  he  examines  these 
witnesses,  to  conclude  that,  if  I  have  been  misled,  it  wjjs  with- 
out evil  intentions,  and  was  not  unnatural  with  such  guides  be- 
fore me.  I  shall  take  up  the  points  which  I  purpoise  to  notice 
mainly  in  the  order  of  General  Johnston's  letter. 

1.  But  first,  I  must  endeavor  to  acquit  myself  of  the  charge 
of  disparaging  some  of  General  Jackson's  comrades,  whom,  if 
I  knew  my  own  thoughts,  I  was  only  seeking,  in  my  bungling 
way,  to  honor.  General  Johnston  says:  "This  account  of  the 
battle  does  great  injustice  to  General  Beauregard,  and  to  Bee's 
and  Early's  brigades  ;vnd  their  commanders.  General  Jackson's 
great  fame  is  in  no  degree  enhanced  by  such  disparagements  of 
his  associates."  The  reader  is  requested  to  bear  in  mind  the 
following  genera]  caution  against  such  impressions  contained 


72  REPLY    OF    R.    L.   DA15NEY,   D,  D. 

in  iny  preface,  page  0:  "And  especially  would  I  declare  that, 
in  relating  the  share  borne  by  General  Jackson's  comrades  and 
subordinates  in  his  campaigns,  I  have  been  actuated  by  a  cordial 
and  friendly  desire  to  do  justic-^  to  all.  If  I  shall  seem  to  any 
to  have  done  less  than  this,  it  will  be  my  misfortune,  and  not 
my  intention."  But  it  is  more  to  the  point  to  refer  to  my  words 
oi)  page  215  of  the  narrative:  ''The  other  twa"  (reserve  bri- 
gades) "were  those  of  Generals  Bee  and  Jackson,  and  the  hero- 
ism of  these  two  was  sufficient  to  reinstate  the  wavering  for- 
tunes of  the  day,"  etc.  Bee  i-s  mentioned  first,  and  with  the 
same  approbation  as  Jackson.  Is  tliis  a  disparagement?  On 
page  218.  I  say  of  Bee  and  Evans:  "For  two  hours  these  two 
officers,  with  five  regiments  and  six  guns,  had  breasted  the  Fed- 
eral advances."  etc.  (I  had  before  stated  th:it  this  advance  was 
nf  20,000  men.)  Does  tliis  disparage  Bee?  On  page  222  I  at- 
tempt in  my  poor  way  to  describe  Bee's  heroic  end.  exactly  as 
it  was  detailed  to  me  by  those  who  saw  it,  in  the  most  honora- 
ble words  I  could  find.  Oeneral  Early  and  his  brigade  are  men- 
tioned by  name,  but  their  exploits  are  not  described  fully,  be- 
cause they  acted  on  another  part  of  the  field,  and  had  no  special 
connection,  as  Bee  had,  with  the  movements  of  my  own  subject. 
Jacksion.  And  finally,  on  page  228.  to  guard  against  any  pos- 
siWe  apprehension  unjust  to  others,  these  words  are  inserted: 
"The  object  of  this  narrative  has  been  to  give  such  a  sketch  of 
the  whole  battle  as  to  make  the  part  borne  by  the  Stonewall 
brigade  and  its  leader  intelligible.  -r.wA  to  give  fuller  details  of 
the  conduct  of  the  General  who^e  life  is  the  subject  of  this  work. 
The  reader  will  not  infer  from  this  that  all  the  stubbtrn  and 
useful  fighting  was  done  by  Jackson  and  his  command.  Other 
officers  and  other  brigades  displayed  equal  heroism,  and  con- 
tributed essentially  to  the  final  result,"  etc. 

2.  General  Johnston  questions  my  correctness  in  the  ac- 
count I  gave  of  the  surrender  of  C:>lonel  Jackson's  command  to 
him  at  Harper's  Ferry.  The  point  of  difference  between  them 
was.  that  whereas  General  Johnston  claimed  to  relieve  Colonel 
J.,  at  once,  the  latter  refused  to  surrender  his  trust  until  au- 
thorized in  some  sliajje  to  do  so  by  those  who  had  committed  it 
to  him — his  State  authorities.  And  the  point  of  difference  be- 
tween General  Johnston  and  me  now  is  that  I  say  Colonel  J. 
was  inflexible,  and  actually  continued  to  hold  his  pawer  until, 


REPLY    OF   R     L.    DABiSTEY,  D.  D-  73 

oppoi-tunely.  the  anrliority  to  transfer  it  raiuc  in  tlie  sliapo  of 
an  eudorsenieut  of  General  Lee  on  a  paper;  wliile  General  John- 
ston says:  "There  was  no  display  of  inflexibility  on  Jackson's 
l»art/"  that  he  was  euli<;hted  by  Majjr  Whiting,  and  that  my 
representation  "does  injustice  to  General  Jackson's  character.'' 
I  did  not  conceive  that  it  was  my  business  as  a  historian  to  re- 
liect  whether  the  incident  was  favorable  or  unfavorable  to  Gen- 
eral Jackson's  character,  but  to  tell  the  exact  trutli  as  it  haj*- 
jieucd.  That  I  did  not  misrej)reseut  it  is  shown  by  the  letter 
wliicli  (Jeneral  Johnstjn  himself  quotes,  saying:  "Until  I  re- 
ceive further  instructions  from  Governor  Letcher  or  (Jeneral 
Lee  I  do  not  feel  at  liberty  to  transfer  my  command  to  anothei*. 
and  must  therefore  decline  publishing-  the  order,"  etc. '  I  have 
had  the  very  letter  containing  General  Lee's  endoi'sement — 
which  happily  solves  the  diflflculty — in  my  p3ssession.  (I  re- 
turned it  to  Mrs.  J.,  who  doubtless  has  it  now.)  And  if  any 
one  questions  whether  Colonel  J.  had  receded  from  his  i)ositi(»n 
before  receiving  it.  I  would  suggest  that  he  ask  the  fact  of  his 
aid.  Colonel  James  Massie,  3f  Lexington,  Va. 

8.  I  now  pass  to  another  point.  General  Jidinsron.  dis- 
senting fr.om  any  o])inii)n  that  it  wdiild  liave  been  better  to 
marcli  the  remainder  of  the  Army  of  the  Valley  direct  to  the  bar- 
tlefield  from  PieduiDut  statiou,  instead  of  waiting  upon  con- 
fused and  dilatory  trains  of  cars,  sa^vs:  "The  fact  that  tlu^e 
tro'opvsi  were  two  days  in  marching  twenty-three  miles  from 
(Winchester  to  Piedmiont)  shows  that  they  could  not  have 
marched  thirty-four  miles,  from  Piedmont  to  the  scene  of  ac- 
tion, in  less  than  two  days,  and  that  the  only  hope  of  getting 
tliem  into  the  battle  was  by  the  railroad.'' 

I  had  spoken  of  Jackson  as  having  made  a  forced  march  of 
thirty  miles  from  Piedmont,  which  is  charged  as  an  error,  liut 
I  expressly  re})resented  that  march  as  beginning,  uot  at  \\'in- 
chester.  but  neu'th  of  Winchester  (p.  211).  But  grant  a  slight 
error  of  miles  here.  From  Piedmont  ta  Gainsville  is  twenty- 
six  miles,  and  by  a  map  furnished  me  from  the  bureau  of  Gen- 
eral Gilmer  of  the  Engineers,  Gainsville  is  four  miles  from 
Groveton  b;v  turnpike.  So  that  the  distance  to  be  marched  on 
foot,  to  get  intj  action,  was  thirty  miles,  not  thirty-four.  Now. 
General  Jackson,  on  that  occasion,  marched  to  Piedmont  in  one 
day.    Why  could  not  the  rest  of  the  troops  do  the  same?    They 


T4  F.EPLY    OF    K.    L.    DABXEY,  D.  D. 

left  Wiiu-liester  ;rt  12  m.  Thursday.  The  third  day  brought  ex- 
actly midday  d  the  great  battle.  The  next  March,  in  short 
days.  General  Jackson  marched  his  army  seventy-five  miles  in 
three  da^vw.  and  fought  the  battle  of  Kernstown  besides.  Why 
could  not  the  remainder  of  the  Army  of  the  Valley  march  fifty- 
three  miles  (General  Johnston's  measure  to  Groveton)  in  three 
days,  when  there  was  no  battle  to  fight  by  the  way?  My  opin- 
ion was.  obviously,  not  grounded  on  the  supposition  that  the 
rrooj)s  were  to  be  allowed  to  dawdle  along  the  road  in  a  man- 
ner which  General  Jackson's  brigade  ]»roved  to  be  unneces- 
sary. As  to  the  destitution  of  food  ar  riedmont,  xhjse  who  ques- 
tion the  fact  are  respectfully  referred  to  tlie  officers  and  men  of 
the  Thirty-eighth  Virginia  regiment  (foi-  instance).  They  will 
receive  from  tliem  statements  which  will  account  very  fully  for 
my  impression  on  that  subject.  No  explanation  of  the  fact  was 
advanced  by  me. 

4.  The  next  point  of  General  Johnston's  criticism  is  my 
account  of  General  Beauregard's  first  plan  o'f  action  and  its  re- 
linciuishment.  If  the  reader  will  collate  the  different  para- 
graphs in  which  I  state  that  matter  (from  pp.  218  to  217)  he 
will  find  that  my  representation  was  substantially  this:  That 
General  B.'s  original  plan  had  been  to  take  the  aggressive  and 
attack  at  Centerville,  but  S3  few  of  the  troops  of  General  J.  had 
arrived  by  Saturday  night  that  he  was  com])elled  to  postpone 
it;  that  when  the  enemy  took  the  initiative,  Sunday  morning. 
General  B.  still  recimimended  the  carrying  out  of  ^so  much  of 
tliat  original  plan  as  to  advance  our  right  and  center  on  Center- 
ville as  sojn  as  the  enemy's  ]»urposf  to  direct  his  main  attack 
on  our  extrtMue  left  was  perceived,  which  suggestion  General  J. 
accepted;  that  corresponding  orders  for  sucli  a  movement  of  the 
right  and  cf'uter  were  actually  issiied.  and  that  tliey  miscar- 
ried; that  when  the  fact  became  apparent  that  thoise  orders 
were  not  executed  in  suflicient  time,  the  generals  necessarily 
relinquished  that  excellent  plan,  and  wisely  contented  them- 
selves with  bringing  up  everything  within  reach  for  the  imme- 
diate support  of  the  left.  Let  the  reader  now  consider  the  fol- 
lowing authorities  hy  w^hich  I  attempted  to  guide  myself,  and  I 
think  he  will  feel  that  I  have  committed  no  serious  error,  and 
certainly  no  intentional  one: 

General  Ewell,  then  brigadier  (whose  letter  I  have  before 


REPLY    OF  K.  L.  DABNKY,   D.  D.  75 

me),  savis:  "His  (B."s)  plan  for  sonic  time,  as  explained  in  f re- 
fluent inferviews  with  his  brigade  coniiiianders,  had  been  ta 
move  forward  his  ri<;iit  and  center,  and  attack."  Next  (leneral 
B.,  in  his  otiticial  report,  says  that  at  4:.'i0  a.  m.  of  the  21st  (Sun- 
day) he  lordei-ed  these  ti'oops  to  be  in  readiness.  (\Vhicli  order 
General  Kwell  states  he  received  and  observed.)  Next,  in  an- 
other part  of  his  report  (Jeneral  B.  istates  that  he  thonjiht  an 
attack  by  his  rij^ht  winjj;  and  center  was  the  best  means  of  re- 
lieving his  leftj  an<]  tliat  the  dispositions  were  submitted  to 
General  Johnstcm,  and  the  orders  issued.  Next,  a  letter  from 
General  B.  to  (General  Ewell,  July  2(5,  ISOl,  has  the  following 
words:  "I  do  not  attach  the  slif^htest  bhtinie  to  you  for  the  fail- 
ure of  the  ULovement  on  Centerville,  bnt  to  the  jj^uide,  who  did 
not  deliver  the  order  to  move  forward,  si'ut  at  about  8  o'clock 
a.  ni.  to  General  Holmes,  and  then  to  you — corresponding  in  ev- 
ery respect  to  the  one  sent  to  (lenerals  -I ones,  Lonostreet,  and 
Ivonham — only  their  movements  were  snbordinate  to  yours." 
*  *  *  "I  am  fully  awaiv  that  yon  did  all  that  could  be  ex- 
pected of  you  or  your  command.  I  mereh'  expressed  my  re- 
gret that  my  original  '}»lan  conld  not  be  carried  into  effect,  as 
it  would  have  been  a  most  coniplete  victory  witli  only  half  the 
trouble  and  fighting.  The  true  cauise  of  countermanding  your 
forward  movement  after  you  had  crossed  was  that  it  was  then 
too  late,  as  the  enejny  were  about  to  annihilate  our  left  flank, 
and  had  to  be  met  and  checked  there,  for  otherwise  he  would 
have  taken  us  on  the  flank  and  rear,  and  all  would  have  been 
lost."  ''N.  B. — The  order  sent  you  at  about  8  a.  m.  to  commence 
the  movement  on  Centerville  was  addressed  to  General  Holmes 
and  3'ourself,  as  he  was  to  support  you;  but  being  nearer  Camp 
Pickeus,  the  headquarters,  than  Union  IMills,  where  you  were, 
it  was  to  be  communicated  to  him  fii'st,  and  then  to  you;  but  he 
has  informed  me  that  it  never  reached  him."  Tlius  wrote  Gen- 
eral Beauregard  to  General  Ewell  five  days  after  the  battle.  If 
I  understaud  the  points  of  General  Johnston's  objections  to  my 
rendering  of  the  facts  hei'e  given,  they  are  these:  First.  That  I 
err  in  rei)resenting  the  giving  of  the  orders  to  advance  the  right 
and  center  as  occurring  when  the  Yankee  attack  on  the  left 
was  developed;  whereas,  says  General  Johnston,  they  were 
then  countermanded.  (10:;')0  a.  m.  is  the  hour  lie  gives.)  And 
Becond.    That  I  disparage  General  Beauregard  by  representing 


76  REPLY  OF  U    L.   DABXKY,  D  D. 

him  as  doing  a  foolish  and  ruinous  thing,  which,  had  lie  done 
it,  would  have  kept  six  brigades  out  of  tiie  fight,  and  surely  lost 
the  ddy.  Xow,  the  reader  should  note  that  it  is  not  I,  but  Gen- 
eral Johnston,  who  gives  10:80  a.  m.  as  the  earliest  hour  at 
which  lunidquarters  knew  where  the  -main  Yankee  attack  was 
to  be.  (I,  for  my  part,  should  not  have  dreamed  of  making  so 
disparaging  a  statement.)  I  didn't  presume  bo  mention  the 
hour.  But  I  represented  Greneral  B.  as  still  entertaining  the 
jmrpose  of  advancing  his  right  and  center  after  it  was  perceived 
our  left  wa;3  to  be  the  main  point  of  attack,  and  as  the  best 
means  of  relieving  it.  Does  not  General  Beauregard's  letter 
bear  me  out?  General  J.  says  General  B.  could  not  have  list- 
ened for  the  thunder  of  his  batteries  on  the  heights  of  Center- 
ville,  for  none  was  sent  there.  Does  not  General  B.'s  letter  de- 
clare that  /le  thoti^ht  he  had  sent  some  there?  Last,  says  Gen- 
eral J.,  six  brigades  would  have  been  kept  out  of  the  fight. 
These  six  were  Holmes's,  Ewell's,  P^arly's.  Jones's.  Longstreet's, 
and  Bonham's.  I  reply,  (5)  five  were  kept  out.  Early's  w^as  the 
only  one  of  the  six  actually  engaged  on  the  left.  Holmes's,  the 
only  one  of  the  rest  which  reached  the  ground,  was  in  position, 
but  did  not  fire  a  musket.  But  take  General  Johnston's  own 
figures,  whicli  show  that  at  half-past  10  o'clock  a.  m.  he  learned, 
at  once,  that  the  orders  for  the  advance  of  the  right  and  center 
had  miscarried,  and  that  the  main  A'ankee  attack  was  on  the 
left.  Could  not  Generals.  Bonham,  Longstreet,  Jones,  and  Ew- 
ell,  still  have  marched  three  miles  and  a  half  to  Centerville, 
having  been  in  readiness  to  do  so  since  half-past  4  a.  m.?  Jack- 
son held  the  key  to  the  position  on  Young's  branch  until  3  p. 
m.,  and  certainly  received  no  aid  from  these  brigades. 

5.  The  next,  and  doubtless  the  main  point  with  General 
Johnston,  is  the  oinnion  advanced  by  General  Jackson  and  de- 
fended by  me — that  the  pursuit  sliould  have  been  pressed,  and 
Washington  threatened.  General  Johnston  justifies  his  cav- 
alry for  not  pursuing  farther,  because,  says  he,  ''it  was  driven 
back  by  the  solid  resistance  of  the  United  States  infantry."  In 
the  same  paragraph  he  says:  "The  infantry  was  not  reciuired  to 
continue  the  pursuit,  because  it  would  have  been  harrassing  it 
to  no  purpose.  It  is  well  known  that  infantry  unencumbered 
by  baggage  trains  can  easily  escape  pursuing  infantry."  Thus 
we  are  told  in  the  same  breath  that  the  Yankee  infantry  was 


REPLY  OF  R.  L.  DABNEY,  D.D.  77 

running  so  fast  that  it  was  useless  for  the  conquering  Confed- 
erate infantry  to  fatigue  itself  by  trying  to  overtake  it;  and  that 
the  Yankee  infantry  was  at  the  same  time  standing  so  staunchly 
as  to  beat  off  Radford's  regiment  of  cavalry,  and  to  make  attack 
by  all  the  Cbnfederate  cavalry  (J.  E.  B.  Stuart's  regiment,  etc.) 
improper.  If  the  Yankees  wei'e  making  so  bold  a  stand,  was  not 
that  a  place  for  the  conquering  infantry  to  strike'.' 

But 'farther:  The  Yankee  resistance  by  which  Colonel  Rad- 
ford's onset  was  momentarily  arrested  (he  being  temporarily 
unsupported)  was  not  solid,  and  .-hould  not  have  put  an  end  to 
the  pursuit.  The  evidence  is  in  a  letter  from  Colouel  Delaware 
Kemper,  of  the  artillery,  now  under  my  eye,  which  states  that 
"immediately  after  the  repulse  of  the  enemy'?;  tiual  attack  he 
accompanied  Colonel  Kershaw"  (who  then  was  followed  by  his 
own  and  Cash's  South  Carolina  regiment)  "in  pursuit  of  the 
enemy  along  the  turnpike.  About  dark  we  arrived  within  300 
or  400  yards  of  the  suspension  bridge  over  Cub  Run,  and  found 
the  fugitives  along  the  turnpike  crowding  across  the  bridge, 
mingled  with  the  Yankee  troops  who  were  retreating  by  the 
Sudley  road,  which  intersects  the  turnpike  just  west  of  this 
bridge.  I  opened  fire  upan  these  masses  and  elicited  no  reply; 
but  in  a  few  minutes  not  a  Yankee  was  within  range,  all  having 
fled  towards  Centerville,  leaving  in  our  hands  fifteen  or  sixteen 
pieces  of  artillery,  many  wagons,  etc."  Thus  Captain  Kemper, 
pursued  beyond  the  point  at  whic-h  oiu-  cavalry  was  temporarily 
checked,  showing  that  it  should  have  gone  on.  With  reference 
to  the  recalling  of  infantry  from  the  pursuit  to  meet  an  imag- 
inary advance  of  Yankees  on  our  extreme  right.  General  John- 
ston simply  flouts  the  whole  statement,  and  says: 

''No  troops  were  recalled  from  the  chase,  and  sent  seven  or 
eight  miles,  by  night  or  day,  to  meet  an  imaginary  enemy." 
When  the  reader  considers  the  following  testimony  his  breath 
will  probably  be  as  nearly  taken  away  by  this  as  mine  was.  1 
have  under  my  eye  a  letter  from  Colonel  R.  E.  Withers,  com- 
manding the  Eighteenth  Virginia  regiment,  from  which  I  ex- 
tract the  following  words: 

"The  Eighteenth  Virginia  was  the  first  regiment  which 
crossed  Bull  Run  in  pursuit.  Kershaw's  Second  South  Carolina 
and  Cash's  Eighth  South  Carolina  following  almost  immediate- 
ly.    The  officers  of  these  (3)  three  regiments  had  a  rapid  con- 


78  KEPLY  OF  R    L.  DABNEJY,  D  D 

saltation,  and  agreed  upon  tlie  mode  of  advance,  and  speedily 
I>iit  the  men  in  morion,  moving  by  columns  of  companies  on 
each  side  of  the  pike.  Before  proceeding  very  far,  however,  I 
received,  through  an  officer  of  General  Beauregard's  staff,  an 
order  of  recall,  directing  me  to  march  my  regiment  back  to  the 
Stone  bridge.  About  the  time  we  reached  the  bridge  another 
officer  rode  up,  and  inquired  as  to  the  condition  of  my  regiment 
and  its  capacity  for  further  service.  My  reply  was  that  the 
men  were  wearied  and  hungry,  but  that  the  bss  of  the  regi- 
ment in  battle  had  not  exceeded  forty  or  fifty,  and  that  we 
were  ready  to  perform  any  duty  which  might  be  deemed  neces- 
sary. He  then  told  me  that  'the  General"  had  just  received  in- 
formation that  a  heavy  column  of  the  enemy  was  advancing  in 
the  direction  of  Union  Mills,  threatening  an  attack  on  Manas- 
sas junction,  and  as  all  the  trooiis  had  been  withdrawn  from 
that  place,  it  was  in  great  danger.  This  was  just  before  sun- 
set. We  immediately  started  for  Manassas,  and  pushed  forward 
as  rapidly  as  the  exhausted  condition  of  the  men  would  permit. 
When  we  reached  the  'McLean  House,'  near  Manassas,  we  were 
met  by  orders  directing  us  to  go  to  Camp  Walker,  on  Bull  Run 
a  short  distance  above  Union  Mills;  which  >place  we  reached 
about  midnight.  The  next  morning  we  were  ordered  back  to 
Manassas,  and  thence  to  our  former  position  near  Ball's  ford, 
on  Bull  Kun.  where  we  bivouacked  in  the  rain,  and  remained 
until  Tuesday  evening,  or  Wednesday  morning.  ♦  *  *  | 
presumed  that  several  other  regiments  received  orders  similar, 
as  they  also  were  marched  back  to  Manassas,  and  one  or  two  of 
them  to  Gamp  Walker."  So  far  Colonel  Withers.  Colonel  H. 
A.  Carrington,  then  of  the  Eighteenth  Virginia,  says:  "We.  af- 
ter sunset,  marched  seven  miles  in  the  direction  of  our  lines  on 
the  right,  when  the  rumored  advance  proved  to  be  unfounded, 
and  the  regiment  was  permitted  to  rest  for  the  night.  The  next 
day,  in  a  drenching  rain,  we  were  marched  back  to  the  battle- 
field, and  camped  on  the  banks  of  Bull  Run  within  one-quarter 
of  a  mile  of  the  scene  of  confiict.'' 

With  reference  to  the  question  of  pursuit  and  of  threaten- 
ing Washington  City,  let  us  first  consider  how  far  my  position 
extends.  On  page  236  this  is  rery  distinctly  defined  in  the  fol- 
lowing words:  ''They  (the  generals)  are  not  to  be  condemned  by 
history  because  they  did  not  take  Washington,  but  because 


KEPLY  OF  R.  L.  DABNEY.  D  D.  79 

they  didn't  try."  Even  this  qualified  opinion  I  should  uever 
have  presumed  to  advance  before  the  public  on  my  own  judj^- 
ment  or  on  that  of  the  amateur  sohliers  and  newspaper  critics, 
whom  General  Johnston  so  justly  despises.  Ir  was  only  when 
I  was  confirmed  in  it  by  the  great  authority  of  General  Jack- 
son that  I  ventured  to  advance  it;  and  my  motive  was  only  t(j 
defend  his  credit,  after  stating,  as  the  truth  of  history  compelled 
me  to  do,  the  fact  of  his  expressing  such  opinions.  It  was  in 
May  or  June,  1802,  that,  being  alone  with  General  Jackson  in 
his  quarters,  I  ventured  to  mention  the  general  expectation  and 
desire  of  our  troo'ps  at  Manassas  to  endeavor  at  once  to  im- 
prove our  victory,  and  to  ask  him  whether  that  desire  was  ig- 
norant and  foolish.  His  brow  immediately  knit,  and  striking 
his  little  writing  table  with  his  hand,  he  replied:  "The  neglect 
of  the  attempt  was  a  deplorable  blunder.  Did  you  know,  that 
on  the  morning  after  the  battle  10,000  fresh  troops  reached 
Manassas,  expecting  nothing  but  to  be  led  against  the  enemy?" 
I  replied: 

"I  myself  saw  large  arrivals,  for  I  had  gone  with  our 
wounded  from  the  battlefield  to  the  Junction,  and  witnessed  the 
coming  in  of  nearly  a  mile  of  cars  clustered  with  soldiers  like 
swarming  bees,  all  cheering  and  shouting,  but  I  did  not  know 
how  many  of  them  there  were."  General  Jackson  said:  "Yes, 
sir,  there  were  ten  thousand  of  them."  He  then  proceeded 
briefly,  but  emphatically,  to  state  the  leading  ideas  on  which  I 
grounded  the  discussion  in  my  book.  As  my  word  anay  go  for 
nothing  in  this  matter,  I  may  here  say  in  passing  that  if  any 
one  doubts  whether  I  represent  General  Jackson's  opinion 
aright  herein,  he  can  satisfy  himself  l)y  resorting  to  the  Hon. 
Alexander  Boteler,  to  wliom  (}(meral  Jackson  expressed  sub- 
stantially the  same  view^  in  July,  1S(;2,  at  Harrison's  lauding. 
General  Johnston  thinks  that  had  Jackson  estimated  the  policy 
at  Manassas  as  I  represent  him,  he  could  not  have  refrained 
from  expostulating.  All  I  can  say  is,  that  I  heard  him  say  what 
I  'have  above  stated.  Poni'  days  after  tlie  battle  (he  being  then 
under  General  Johnston's  orders),  I  heard  some  one  ask  him 
the  (jucstion  why  the  cufMuy  were  not  ])ressed?  wIkmi  he  i*ei)lie!l. 
with  a  (luiet  smile,  and  a  caution  which;  suppn^ssed  even  the 
faintest  intimation  of  his  jtrivate  opini(Hi  on  his  countcnanct', 
"You  will  have  to  ask  that  of  (Jciieral  Johnston."     liiil  in  1S()2 


80  REPLY  OF  n.  L.  DABNET,  D.t). 

I  heard  General  Jaeksou,  wheu  uo  ioiigei'  under  Jiis  urdei\s.  ex- 
X>ress  the  strong  dissent  stated  above.  I  suppose  the  exphina- 
tion  is  to  be  found  in  his  well  known  subordination,  silence, 
and  modest}^  towards  suj)eriors.  And  if  I  have  been  in  error 
as  to  the  number  of  fresh  troops,  the  mistake  was  General  Jack- 
son's, and  not  mine.  The  same  fact  may  account,  in  part,  for 
the  statement,  on  page  239,  that  the  Confederate  forces  had 
grown  in  autumn  to  an  aggregate  of  60,000.  Has  General 
Johnston,  after  all,  denied  this?  It  is  not  my  purpose  so  much 
to  argue  the  polic}'  of  pursuing  our  victor}'  at  first  Manassas 
as  to  exhibit  the  supposed  evidences  of  facts  claimed  in  my 
narrative.  But  it  may  be  said  that  if  the  opinion  supported  in 
my  book  is  erroneous,  it  is  an  error  which  is  found  in  very  large 
and  very  good  company.  It  finds  plausibility  in  the  exalted 
authority  of  General  Jackson.  I  have  never  conversed  with 
more  than  one  intelligent  Southerner  who  did  not  share  it  with 
me.  It  receives  countenance  from  many  of  high  authority 
among  our  conquerors.  Many  readers  will  recall,  for  example, 
the  admission  of  the  Yankee  Brigadier-General  Prentice,  cap- 
tured by  General  Beauregard  at  Shiloh,  who  frankly  declared 
that  in  failing  to  improve  our  victory  at  Manassas  we  had  lost 
our  opportunity;  that  the  United  States  had  just  then  reached 
the  temporary  limit  of  their  existing  munitions  and  means; 
that  the  temper  of  the  nation  would  probably  not  have  en- 
dured farther  disaster;  but  that  now  all  was  changed,  and  our 
chance  had  passed  away.  The  common  sense  of  the  people, 
Xorth  and  South,  reasoned  that  if  the  Confederates  could  not 
(for  some  reason,  whatever  it  might  be)  so  improve  the  hour 
of  most  brilliant  success  as  to  cripple  the  powers  of  their  ad- 
versary for  future  aggression,  then  obviously  their  gallantry 
must  be  vain  in  the  end,  and  must  fail  before  superior  num- 
bers. It  was  this  thought  which  encouraged  the  North  as  they 
recovered  from  their  fright.  It  was  this  which  filled  thought- 
ful men  with  foreboding  among  us.  General  Johnston  points 
to  the  failure  of  the  invasions  of  1862  and  1863  as  proofs  that 
he  judged  wisely.  I  point  to  the  fact  that  Generals  Lee  and 
Jackson  and  the  Government  judged  successes  should  thus  be 
followed  up  as  proof  that  the  same  opinion  was  not  absurd  in 
1861.  I  point  also  to  the  fact  that  the  invasions  of  1862  and 
1863  both  came  verv  near  being  successful.     The  former,  ac- 


REPLY  OF  R.  L    D.\B>rF.Y,  D  D.  81 

coi'diiio-  ro  the  best  officers,  was  only  defeated  by  the  stragglinj^ 
of  our  sDldiers.  The  latter  broughr  the  Yankee  empire  to  the 
A(  rgi  of  ruin,  as  they  very  plainly  felt  at  +he  tinn  .  lUit  my 
chief  answer  here  is  that  the  case  of  1801  was  wholly  diflt'erent 
from  the  two  subsequent,  and  the  reasoning  from  them  to  it  is 
very  much  as  though  one  should  argue  that  because  iu  two 
cases  com  planted  in  November  did  not  thrive,  therefore  he  did 
right  to  neglect  planting  in  April.  In  1862  and  1803  the  Yan- 
kees had  had  time  to  prepare  and  to  equalize  their  inferior  ma- 
terial to  arms  by  drill  and  experience.  In  1801,  when  both 
were  inexperienced,  was  the  time  for  us  to  employ  our  superior 
morale.  General  Johnston,  referring  to  our  victories  at  second 
Manassas,  Fredericksburg,  and  Chancellorsville,  says:  "On 
these  occasions  tlie  forces  defeated  were  ten  times  as  numerous 
as  those  repulsed  on  the  21st  of  -Tuly.  1801.  and  their  losses 
twenty  times  as  great."  He  has  told  us  that  McDowell  brought 
10,000  against  him.  Does  he  mean  to  say  that  Burnside  or 
Hooker  had.  either  of  them,  400,000?  McDowell's  loss  was  es- 
timated by  (feneral  Beauregard  at  some  1.000.  Was  Hooker's 
80,000?  He  doubtless  uses  the  words  ''defeated'''  and  ''repulsed'' 
intentionally.  Did  Hooker  or  Burnside  retire  across  the  Kap- 
pahannock  in  so  much  greater  dis;)rder  than  McDowell  fled  to 
tlie  I*otomac?  But  to  the  facts:  General  Johnston  declared 
that  the  troops  could  not  have  been  subsisted  on  the  country 
of  the  vicinage  in  an  advance  on  Alexandria,  because  the  army 
of  McDowell,  passing  over  it  twice,  had  doubtless  stripped  it 
bare.  He  forgets  that  this  army  was  commanded  by  General 
Scott,  who,  recreant  as  he  was  to  his  native  land,  did  not  con- 
duct war  on  savage  methods;  that  he  sent  out  his  troops  fully 
supplied  for  the  march;  and  that  their  Hight  was  itoo  fright- 
ened and  rapid  for  foraging.  Tlu'  fact  is,  tliat  they  left  the 
resources  of  the  vicinage  untouched.  It  was  on  my  return  to 
Centerville  after  the  battle  that  I  found  a  herd  of  sixty  beeves 
on  a  farm  a  mile  from  the  village,  which  had  been  precluded 
fi'om  their  intended  market  iu  Alexandria  by  the  hostilities. 
And  I  have  the  testimony  of  Golonel  Mosby  that  the  neighlvor- 
hood  would  then  have  al)undanlly  supplied  a  marching  army. 
As  to  distance,  the  engineers  of  the  Orange  and  Alexandria 
railroad  state  that  ^lanassas  junction  is  twenty-seven  nriles 
from  Alexandria.     The  distance  by  turnpike  is  not  much'  dif- 


82  REPLY  OF  R.  L.  DABNEY,  D.D. 

fereiil;  uiid  the  Stuue  bridge  is  by  that  I'oad  nearer  Alexandria 
than  is  the  junction.  My  estimate  of  the  disorganized  condi- 
tion of  the  Yankee  troops  after  the  battle  is  denied  on  the  au- 
thority of  the  reports  of  their  general  oflflcers;  and  we  are  told 
of  three  divisions  unscathed  of  battle.  Let  the  reader  con- 
sider if  my  impressions  were  not  excusable  in  view  of  the  fol- 
lowing facts:  First.  The  public  has  not  yet  forgotten  the 
lively  descriptions  of  Mr.  Kussel,  the  correspondent  of  the  Lon- 
don Times,  by  whose  truthful  pictures  the  Yankees  were  so  in- 
tensely mortified.  He  was  surely  not  a  mere  heedless,  unpro- 
fessional relator  like  me.  He  had  carefully  studied,  as  an  eye- 
witness, the  great  operations  of  the  Crimean  war.  Next,  I  will 
give  some  facts  which  will  show  the  real  condition  of  the  Y'^an- 
kee  reserves,  and  of  those  bodies  of  their  troops  which  are  re- 
ported as  having  retired  in  so  steady  and  orderly  a  manner. 
In  a  letter  from  Colonel  Del.  Kemper,  relating  to  his  pursuit 
aibove  mentioned,  are  the  following  words:  ^'I  subsequently 
learned  that  these  troops  were  under  General  Burnside,  who 
claimed  that  they  were  retiring  in  good  order  until  the  artil- 
lery fire  above  spoken  of  created  the  stampede,  which  he  did 
not  pretend  to  deny.  Their  failure  to  respond  to  my  fire  mates 
me  doubt  their  previous  good  order."  A  mile  south  of  Center- 
ville  lived  (and  I  hope  still  lives)  an  excellent  gentleman  named 
Thomas  Stuart,  whose  Christian  hospitalities  many  a  sick  and 
hungry  Confederate  blessed.  He  remained  on  his  own  premises 
the  whole  of  Sunday,  the  21st.  He  told  me  that  when  the 
stream  of  fugitives  and  vehicles  came  back,  a  reserve  division 
of  Federal  infantry  was  drawn  up  across  his  fields;  that  as  the 
confusion  increased  they  began  to  waver;  that  they  were  then 
broken  merely  by  the  influence  of  their  own  comrades'  flight, 
and  a'bout  sunset  they  joined  their  rout,  flying  so  precipitately 
as  to  leave  his  fields  scattered  over  with  knapsacks,  etc.,  in 
such  quantity  that  on  the-morrow,  he  and  his  servants  turning 
out  in  the  rain,  hauled  in  a  granary  full  of  them  for  the  Con- 
federate officers.  Y^et  no  armed  Confederate  had  come  within 
cannon  shot  of  these  brave  reserves.  Mr.  Stuart  was  visited  by 
numerous  Confederate  officers  on  Monday,  and  in  fact  arrested 
by  one  of  them  in  a  moment  of  misunderstanding,  and  rudely 
carried  to  the  guardhouse  at  Manassas.  Is  it  said  such  facts 
were  not  known  at  headquarters?     I  reply  by  the  question: 


R1??LY    OF   R     L.    DABNKY,  D.  D.  83 

Ought  not  lieadquartei's  to  liave  been  better  infoiineJ 
llian  an  obscure  person  like  nn^?  Do  nol  coninianders  employ 
efficient  iseouts?  Again,  General  McDowell,  on  his  return  to 
Centerville,  called  together  his  general  officers  and  advised 
with  them.  After  debate,  it  was  resolved  to  fall  back  on  the 
lines  of  Arlington.  But  when  the  generals  sei)arated,  and  went 
to  the  ii]ac(\s  where  their  several  divisions  had  been  ordered  to 
bivouack.  they  found  them  all  silent  and  vacant — their  troops 
had  come  to  the  same  conclusion  much  more  i)romptl.v.  Again, 
there  was  a  reserved  division  advanced  to  tlie  little  village  ;)f 
(Termantown,  six  miles  back  of  Centerville.  This  body  broke 
at  the  sight  of  their  fug-itive  comrades,  and  concluding  that 
the  Confedei'ates,  with  bloody  bayont^s,  were  close  beliind  the 
crowd,  wisely  took  the  r;)ad  aliead  of  their  brethren,  instead  of 
letting"  them  pass  and  covering  their  retreat.  I  quote  again 
from  Colonel  Kemper:  "Soon  after  the  close  of  the  war,  I  re- 
turned to  my  home  in  Alexandria,  Va.,  and  learned  from  gen- 
tlemen, residents  of  that  city,  that  no  c:)nsiderable  body  of  men 
returned  to  Alexandria  from  ^Nlamissas  in  a  state  of  organiza- 
tion; and  that  the  garrisons  of  at  least  some"^  of  the  forts  cover 
ing  Alexandria  and  Washington  spiked  their  guns  in  expecta- 
tion of  the  coming  of  the  Confederates." 

I  trust  that,  with  such  statements  before  me,  I  may  be 
pard(med  for  believing  notwithstanding  Yankee  assertions, 
that  their  army  was  disorganized. 

AYith  reference  to  the  fortifications  at  Washington,  the 
navigable  river,  and  the  ships-of-war,  I  ]»resume  that  the  ex- 
pectation entertained  by  sensibh^  nu-n,  who  hoped  that  an  at- 
tempt w:)uld  be  made  to  imi»rove  our  success,  was  that  so  lu- 
cidly explained  as  his  own  l)y  (Colonel  Mosby.  It  was,  not  that 
we  should  sit  down  in  Alexandria,  to  be  pelted  out  <by  ships-of- 
war,  n  )r  that  we  should  stu}tidly  besiege  foi-ts  without  a  siege 
apparatus,  but  that,  remembering  the  J'otomac  ceases  to  be  a 
navigable  river  ai  Washington,  and  that  the  forts  on  the  north 
and  east  sides  of  the  city  had  no  existence  until  aftei-wards,  un- 
der ^IcClellan.  we  should  do  what  Lee  and  -Jackson  did  in  ISOli 
— promptly  cross  above  Washington,  avail  ourselves  of  our  su- 
periority of  cavalry  (McDowell  had  but  six  companies,  almost 
totally  disorganized,  at  the  first  collision,  July  ISth).  place  our- 
selves between  the  city  and  the  routed  army  and  General  Put- 


84  REPLY   OF   R.    L.   DABNEY,  D.  D. 

terson,  and  effectually'  interrupt  the  railroad  lines  to  Washing- 
ton, while  we  put  ourselves  in  communication  with  the  South- 
ern party  in  Baltimore.  //  was  this  which  we  hoped  to  see  at- 
tempted; and  we  thought  that  there  was  enough  reason  to  hope 
that  it  wauld  result  in  the  hurried  evacuation  of  Washiugron, 
and  so,  in  great  political  and  moral  results,  to  indicate  the  pol 
icy  of  a  prompt  and  vigorous  exi>eriment. 

This  leads  to  the  question  of  fact  as  to  the  expectation  ac- 
tually prevalent  in  the  army.  General  Johnston  does  not  "be- 
lieve that  this  bombast  was  really  uttered  in  the  army."  (The 
allusion  is  to  the  passage  on  p.  233.  The  rhetoric  I  relinquish 
undefended,  as  becomes  a  decorous  author  at  the  bar  of  criti- 
cism; and  the  more  cheerfully  as  it  is  not  my  own.  The  fact  is, 
that  /  heard  this  very  simile  uttered  by  one  of  the  ablest  and 
most  enlightened  men  in  Virginia,  and  connected  with  the 
army.  It  so  struck  my  uncultivated  taste  that  when,  long  af- 
ter, the  narrative  was  written  it  ran  off  the  end  of  my  pen 
spontaneously.)  He  was  led  to  believe  that  our  troops  thought 
the  war  finished,  and  so  went  home  without  leave  in  crowds. 
My  impression  was  that  the  men  wished  to  pursue  their  suc- 
cess; that  the  desire  to  go  home  was  a  consequence  and  not  a 
cause  of  the  inaction  which  followed.  Let  the  reader  see  if  this 
impression  was  not  natural,  with  such  testimonies  as  the  fol- 
lowing. Colonel  Kemper:  "In  regard  to  the  sentiment  of  the 
army  on  the  subject  of  the  failure  to  pursue  our  routed  enemy, 
I  can  speak  positively  only  of  my  own  deep  disappointment, 
but  will  add  my  ■belief  that  the  disappointment  was  shared  by 
all  my  acquaintances,  and  prevailed  entirely  throughout  the 
army.  We  had  not  then  learned  that  the  whole  duty  of  an  army 
is  to  obey  orders  and  ask  no  questions.  The  widely-extended 
disposition  to  go  home,  so  justly  represented  by  our  generals, 
was,  I  believe,  developed  by  the  conviction  which  necessarily 
soon  became  prevalent  that  the  campaign  was  ended." 

Colonel  Robert  E.  Withers,  of  the  Eighteenth  Virginia, 
writes:  "I  can  only  say  that  so  far  as  I  was  cognizant  of  the 
wishes  and  expectations  of  the  troops,  they  certainly. anticipat- 
ed and  desired  a  speedy  advance  on  Washington;  and  it  was 
only  after  the  lapse  of  some  days,  when  it  was  evident  that  no 
such  advance  was  contemplated,  that  the  demoralizations  and 
desertions  became  so  troublesome.    Such  was  certainly  the  case 


REPLY    OF  R.  L.  DABNEY,  D.  D.  85 

in  our  brigade,  and  I  have  good  reason  to  believe  tliai  fhe  same 
condition  of  things  existed  in  other  portions  of  the  army.  In 
this  connection  I  will  state  that  I  have  just  had  a  conversation 
with  Colonel  Mosby  on  this  subject,  who  coincides  fully  in  my 
opinion,  and  states  that  when  the  cavalry  was  advanced  to 
Fairfax  Courthouse  on  Tuesday  (the  second  day  after  the  bat- 
tle). General  Elzey's  brigade  accomi>anied  the  cavalry  advance, 
and  were  in  an  efficient  and  serviceable  condition,  apparently 
anxious  for  a  rapid  advance  on  Washington.  Colonel  Mosby 
also  believes  that  if  the  entrenchments  in  front  of  Washington 
should  have  proven  too  formidable  to  encounter,  no  difficulty 
would  have  been  experienced  in  compelling  the  evacuation  of 
the  city  by  a  flank  movement,  crossing  the  Potomac  above 
Washington,  thus  interposing  our  army  between  Patterson  and 
the  city,  and  with  our  cavalry  occupying  the  line  of  the  Balti- 
more and  Ohio  railroad,  our  great  superiority  in  that  arm  of  the 
service  would  have  rendered  this  movement  almost  certainly 
successful." 

Colonel  Carrington  says:  ''My  tirm  conviction  is  that  our 
army  generally  favored  a  prompt  and  energetic  pursuit  and  im- 
provement of  our  victory."  *  *  *  ''The  disposition  of  of- 
ficers and  men  to  return  home  was  very  strong  after  they  be- 
came satisfied  that  there  would  be  no  onward  movement,"  etc. 
Thus,  also,  testifies  a  letter  frcmi  Dr.  Richard  P.  Waltim.  then 
a  surgeon  in  the  field. 

One  more  point  remains  to  be  noticed,  (xeneral  .lohnston 
says:  "No  troops  were  then  encamped  in  the  valley  of  Bull 
Run,  or  nearer  to  the  battlefield  than  four  or  five  miles.  The 
dead  had  been  buried,  so  that  ladies  visited  the  field  without 
inconvenience." 

If  the  "then"  relates  to  the  date  of  greatest  mortality,  this 
may  be  true.  But  I  was  possessed  of  testimonies  which  I 
rhought  justified  me  in  believing  that  the  opposite  was  true 
long  enough  to  do  the  mischief  to  the  health  of  the  troops.  The 
dead  men  had  been  buried,  but  the  horses  had  not.  The  ani- 
mal remains  of  Yankee  cami)s,  as  well  as  slain  men  and  ani- 
mals, infected  the  country  foi-  miles. 

Then  as  to  the  facts:  Wc  have  seen  that  Colonel  Carring- 
ton states  the  Eighteenth  A'irginia  encamped  until  Tuesday 
evening  "within  quarter  of  a  mile  of  the  scene  of  the  conflict." 


86  REPLY  OF  R.  L.  DABNEY,  D.D. 

Then  Cocke's  wliole  bii^ade  was  eiuaiiiped  tDi-  more  than  a 
week  at  Cub  Run  bridfje.  just  where  the  battle  ended,  in  the 
midst  of  a  painful  ettluviuni.  Colonel  Camngton  says:  "Hlev- 
eral  other  brigades  besides  Cocke's  were  encamped  in  the  im- 
mediate vicinity  of  the  battlefield." 

It  is  perfectly  true  that  after  the  health  of  the  regiments 
was  infected,  many  of  tliem  were  removed  to  healthier  spots. 
But  both  the  sickness  and  the  mortality  continued  great.  Let 
such  facts  as  these  show  the  condition  of  at  least  a  part  of  the 
army.  The  lamented  General  Chavles  S.  Winder  told  me  in 
May  or  June.  1802.  that  he  came  to  the  lines  of  General  John- 
st  )n  after  the  battle  as  Colonel  commanding  a  ^^outh  Carolina 
regiment  000  strong.  He  was  directed  to  stop  at  Bristoe  and 
encamp  at  Broad  Run.  He  staid  there  until  the  fever  had 
made  such  ravages  that  the  most  he  could  parade  were  300. 
In  the  same  brigade  with  the  Thirty-eighth  Virginia  was  a 
Xorth  Carolina  regiment.  In  this  there  were  not  enough  well 
men  to  nurse  the  sick,  and  details  were  made  from  other  regi- 
ments to  help  them.  The  Eighteenth  Virginia  went  to  Manas- 
sas with  TOO  bayonets.     In  August,  according  to  report  of  the 

surgeon,  it  was  reduced  to  .     It  was  only  once  under  fire, 

and  the  maximum  of  its  loss  at  that  time  has  been  already  giv- 
en in  the  citation  from  Colonel  Withers. 

But  it  is  time  tliar  Tliis  communication  was  closed,  and  I 
end  it  with  repetitions  of  respectful  consideration  for  the  em- 
inent services,  virtues,  and  position  of  General  J.  Two  reasons 
alone  have  induced  me  to  break  that  silence  in  reply  to  which 
is  usually  the  most  decorous  for  an  author  whose  published 
works  are  subjected  to  criticism.  ( )ne  is  the  interest  of  truth ; 
the  other  is  the  interest  of  the  widow  and  orphan  of  General 
Jackson;  for  I  might  well  fear  that  the  adverse  opinion  of  so 
eminent  an  authoi'ity  as  General  Joseph  E.  Johnston  would 
limit,  if  not  wholly  arrest,  the  sale  of  the  work  which  is  design- 
ed to  aid  in  relieving  these  defenseless  persons.  While,  on  the 
one  hand,  it  would  be  unprincipled  in  me  to  seek  their  pecun- 
iary advantage  at  the  expense  of  the  just  fame  of  General  John- 
ston, or  any  other;  on  the  other  hand.  I  am  sure  that  he  would 
regret  any  unintentional  injury  to  the  prospects  which  was  not 
necessary  to  the  defense  of  truth.  R.  L.  DABNEY. 


MEMOIR  OF  A  NARRATIVE  RECEHED  OF 
COLONEL  JOHN  B  BALDWIN,' 

OF   STAUNTON,    TOUCHING   THE    ORIGIN    OF   THE    WAR. 


By  Rev.  R.  L.  Dabnev,  D.  D. 


(The  followiuo;  paper  from  the  able  pen  of  Rev.  Dr.  K.  L. 
Dabuey  will  be  read  with  deep  interest,  and  will  be  found  to  be 
a  valuable  contribution  to  the  history  of  the  origin  of  the  war. 

It  may  be  worth  while  in  this  connection  to  recall  the  fact 
that  when  soon  after  the  capture  of  Fort  Sumter  and  Mr.  Lin- 
coln's proclamation,  a  prominent  Xortliern  p  )litician  wrote 
Colonel  Baldwin  to  ask:  "What  will  the  T'ni(m  men  of  Vir- 
irinia  do  now?"  lu*  immediately  rejjlied:  ''There  are  now  no 
Union  men  in  Virginia.  But  those  \<\\k)  were  Tni  )n  men  will 
stand  to  their  arms,  and  make  a  fight  which  shall  go  down  in 
history  as  an  illustration  of  what  a  brave  people  can  do  in  de- 
fense of  their  liberties,  after  having  exhausted  every  means  of 
pacification.") 

In  March,  18G5,  being  with  the  army  in  I*etersburg,  Vir- 
ginia, I  had  the  pleasure  of  meeting  Colonel  Baldwin  at  a  small 
entertainment  at  a  friend's  h;iuse,  where  he  conversed  wirli  me 
some  two  hours  on  public  affairs.  During  this  time,  he  detail- 
ed to  me  the  history  of  his  ])rivate  mission,  from  the  Virginia 
Secession  Convention,  to  Mr.  Lincoln  in  April,  1801.  The  facts 
he  gave  me  have  struck  me,  especially  since  the  conquest  of 
the  South,  as  3f  great  importance  in  a  history  of  the  origin  of 
rhe  war.  It  was  my  earnest  hope  that  Colonel  Baldwin  would 
reduce  rlieiii  into  a  narrative  for  publication,  and  I  afterwards 
rook  measures  to  induce  him  to  do  so,  but  I  fear  without  effect. 
Should  it  a])pear  that  he  has  left  such  a  narrative,  while  it  will 
confirm  ilie  subsrantial  fidelity  >f  my  narrative  at  second  liand. 
it  will  als;)  supersede  mine,  and  of  this  result  I  should  be  ex- 
tremely glad.  Surviving  friends  and  ]iolitical  associatei^  of 
Colonel  ISalilwin  iiuist  have  heard  him  narrate  the  same  inter- 


1 From  Southern  Bistorical  Society  Papers. 


88    COLONEL  Baldwin's  interview  with  mr.  Lincoln. 

esling-  facts.  I  would  rainestly  invoke^  their  recollcctioii  of  his 
.statements  to  them,  so  as  to  correct  me,  if  in  any  point  I  mis- 
conceived the  author,  and  to  confirm  me  where  I  am  correct,  so 
that  the  history  may  regain,  as  far  as  possible,  that  full  cer- 
tainty of  whitli  it  is  in  danger  of  losing  a  part  by  the  lamented 
death  of  Colonel  Baldwin.  What  I  here  attempt  to  do,  is  to 
give  faithfully,  in  my  own  language,  what  I  understood  Colonel 
Baldwin  to  tell  me,  according  to  my  best  comprehension  of  it. 
His  narration  was  eminently  perspicuous  and  impressive. 

It  should  als  >  be  premised,  tliat  the  ^'irginia  Convention, 
as  a  body,  was  not  in  favor  of  secession.  It  was  prevalently 
under  the  influence  of  statesmen  of  the  school  known  as  the 
"Clay-Whig."  One  of  the  few  original  secessijnists  told  me 
that  at  first  there  were  but  twenty-five  members  of  that  opin- 
ion, and  that  they  gained  no  accessions,  until  they  were  g-iven 
them  by  the  usurpations  of  the  Lincoln  party.  The  Conven- 
tion assem'bled  with  a  fixed  determination  to  preserve  the 
Union,  if  forbearance  and  prudence  could  do  it  consistently 
with  the  rights  of  the  K^tates.  Such,  as  is  well  known,  were,  in 
the  main,  Colonel  Baldwin's  views  and  purposes. 

But  i\Ir.  Lincoln's  inaugural,  with  its  liints  of  coercion  and 
usurpation,  the  utter  failure  of  the  'Teace-Congress,"  and  the 
rejecti(m  of  Mr.  Crittenden's  overtures,  the  refusal  to  hear  the 
commissioners  from  ^Ir.  Davis'  (Tovernment  at  Montg'omery, 
and  the  secret  arming  of  the  Federal  Crovernment  for  attack, 
had  now  produced  feverish  ai>preliensions  in  and  out  of  the 
Conventiju.  Colonel  Baldwin  considei-ed  ^Mr.  Wm.  Ballard 
Preston,  of  ^lontgomery  County,  as  deservedly  one  of  the  most 
influential  members  of  that  body.  This  statesman  now  began 
to  feel  those  sentiments,  which,  soon  after,  prompted  him  to 
move  and  secure  the  passage  of  the  resolution  to  appoint  a 
formal  commission  of  three  ambassadors  from  the  Convention 
to  Lincoln's  Government,  who  should  communicate  the  views 
of  Virginia,  and  demand  those  of  Mr.  Lincoln.  (That  commis- 
si(m  consisted  of  Wm.  B.  Preston,  Alex.  H.  H.  Stuart  and  Geo. 
W.  Randolph.  We  will  refer  to  its  history  in  the  sequel.)  Mean- 
time Mr.  Preston,  with  other  original  Union  men,  were  feeling 
thus:  "If  our  voices  and  votes  are  to  be  exerted  farther  to 
hold  Virginia  in  the  I'nion,  we  must  know  what  the  nature  of 
that  Union  is  to  be.    We  have  valned  Union,  but  we  are  also 


COLONEL  BALDWIN  S  INTKRVIEW  WITH  MR.  LINCOLN.      80 

Vii'<,niiinns,  nnil  we  lovo  the  riiioii  oiilv  as  it  is  based  upon  the 
Constitution.  If  the  j)o\v(m-  of  the  Tnited  States  is  to  be  per- 
verted to  invade  the  ri^lits  of  States  and  jf  tlie  i)eople,  we 
would  support  the  Fed(^ral  (Jovernnient  no  farther.  And  now 
that  the  attitude  of  that  (Jovernnient  was  so  ominous  of  usur- 
pation, we  musi  lcnov\-  whither  it  is  goin^,  or  we  can  jro  with  it 
no  farther."  Mr.  Preston  es})e('ially  detdared  that  if  he  were 
to  become  an  a^ent  for  holding-  Vir.uinia  in  tlie  Union  to  the 
destruction  of  lier  lionor,  and  of  the  liberty  jf  her  peojde  and 
her,  sister  States,  he  would  rather  die  than  exert  that  aj;ency. 

Meantime  Mr.  Seward.  Lincoln's  Secretary  of  State,  sent 
Allen  B.  ]\ra<irud(M%  Esq.,  as  a  confidential  messenp;er  to  Rich- 
mond, ta  hold  an  interview  with  ^h\  Janney  (President  of  the 
Convention),  ^Iv.  Stuart,  and  otluM"  intluential  members,  and 
t  )  urge  that  one  of  them  should  come  to  Washin»;ton,  as 
[U'omptly  as  possible,  to  confer  with  ^Ir.  Lincoln.  Mr.  ^lagrnd- 
er  stated  that  he  was  authorized  by  Mr.  Seward  to  ;say  that 
Fort  Sumter  would  be  evacuated  on  the  Friday  of  the  ensuinj; 
week,  and  that  the  Pawnee  would  sail  on  the  followinji'  Monday 
for  Charleston,  to  effect  the  evacuation.  Mr.  Seward  said  that 
secrecy  was  all  imj)oi'tant,  and  ^^■hile  it  was  extremely  desira- 
ble that  one  of  them  shituld  see  Mr.  Lincoln,  it  was  ecpially  im- 
portant that  th(^  public  should  know  nothin**'  of  the  interview. 
These  j^entlemen  held  a  conference,  and  determined  that  as 
each  of  them  was  well  known  in  Washington  by  person,  the 
re(juired  secrecy  could  not  be  i)reserved  if  either  of  them  went. 
They  therefore  asked  Colonel  Baldwin  to  go,  furnished  with 
the  necessary  credentials  to  Mr.  Lincoln.  He  at  first  demurred, 
saying  that  all  his  public  services  had  been  to  Virginia,  and 
that  he  knew  notliing  of  Washington  and  the  Federal  politics, 
but  they  replied  that  this  was  precisely  what  qualified  him,  be- 
cause his  presence  theie  would  not  excite  remark  or  suspicion. 
Cnlonel  Jialdwin  accordingly  agreed  to  the  mission,  and  went 
witli  Mr.  Magruder  the  following  night,  reaching  Washington 
llie  next  morning  by  the  "Accpiia  Creek  route"  a  little  after 
dawn,  and  driving  direct  lo  the  house  of  Mr.  Magruder's  broth- 
er. (These  gentlemen  were  brothers  of  General  J.  B.  Magruder, 
of  Virginia.)  These  prefatory  statements  prei)are  the  way  for 
Colonel  Baldwin's  special  narrative. 

He  stated  that  after  breakfasting   and   attending    to    his 


90    COLONEL  Baldwin's  interview  with  mk.  Lincoln. 

tailet  at  the  liouse  of  Captain  Magruder,  he  went  with  Mr.  A. 
B.  Magruder,  iu  a  carriage,  with  the  glasses  carefully  raised, 
to  Seward,  who  took  charge  of  Mr.  Baldwin,  and  went  direct 
with  him  to  the  White  House,  reaching  it.  he  thought,  not  much 
after  nine  o'clock  a.  m.  At  the  door,  the  man  who  was  acting 
as  usher,  or  porter,  was  directed  by  ('obnel  Baldwin's  com- 
}>anion.  to  inform  the  President  that  a  gentleman  wished  to  see 
him  on  important  business.  The  man  replied,  as  Colonel  Bald- 
win thought,  with  an  air  of  negligence,  that  he  would  report 
the  application  of  c  )urse,  but  that  it  would  be  useless,  because 
the  President  was  already  engaged  with  very  important  per- 
sonages. Some  card,  or  such  missive,  was  given  him,  and  he 
took  it  in.  He  soon  returned  with  a  surprised  look,  and  siiid 
that  the  gentleman  was  to  be  admitted  instantly.  Colonel  Bald- 
win accordingly  followed  him  and  Mr.  Seward  into  what  he  pre- 
sumed was  the  President's  ordinary  business  room,  where  he 
found  him  in  evidently  anxious  consultation  with  three  or  four 
elderly  men.  who  appeared  to  wear  importance  in  their  aspect. 
Mr.  Seward  whispered  something  to  the  President,  who  at  once 
arose  with  eagerness,  and  without  nuiking  any  movement  to 
introduce  Colonel  Baldwin,  said  bluntly,  in  substance:  "Gen- 
tlemen, excuse  me.  for  I  must  talk  with  this  man  at  once.  Come 
this  way.  sir!"  (to  Colonel  Baldwin).  He  then  tojk  him  up 
stairs  to  quite  a  diflerent  part  of  the  house,  and  into  what  was 
evidently  a  i)rivate  sleeping  apartment.  There  was  a  handsome 
bed.  with  bureau  iind  mirror,  washstaud.  etc.,  and  a  chair  or 
two.  Lincoln  closed  the  door  and  locked  it.  He  then  said: 
-Well.  I  suppose  this  is  Colonel  Baldwin,  of  Virginia?  I  have 
hearn  of  you  a  good  deal,  and  am  glad  to  see  you.  How  d'  ye. 
do  sir?"  Colonel  Baldwin  presented  his  note  of  credential  or 
introducticm.  which  Lincoln  read,  sitting  upon  tlie  edge  of  the 
bed.  and  sjiitring  frcmi  time  to  tini-e  on  the  carpet.  He  then, 
bioking  inquiringly  at  Colonel  Baldwin,  intimated  that  he  un- 
derstood he  was  authorized  to  state  for  liis  friends  iu  the  Vir- 
ginia Convention  the  real  state  of  oi)ini(m  and  purpose  there. 
Fpon  Colonel  Baldwin's  portraying  the  sentiments  which  pre- 
vailed among  the  majority  there.  Lincoln  said  (lueruloiisly : 
''Yes I  your  Virginia  i)eople  are  good  I'nionisrs.  but  it  is  al- 
ways with  an  if!  I  don't  like  that  sort  of  Lnionism."  Colonel 
Baldwin  firmly  and  respectfully  explained,  rhat  in  one  sense 


COLONEL  Baldwin's  interview  with  mk.  Lincoln.     91 

no  freeman  cDuld  be  more  than  a  eendirional  Union  man,  fur 
The  value  of  the  Union  was  in  that  eipiitabh'  and  beneficent 
(\)Uslitntion  on  which  it  was  founded,  and  if  this  were  lost, 
"Union"  mijiiit  becouie  but  another  name  for  mischievous  op- 
pression. He  also  ^ave  Mr.  Lincoln  assurances,  that  the  de- 
scription which  he  was  making-  of  the  state  of  opinion  in  Vir- 
ginia, was  in  perfect  candor  and  fidelity,  and  that  he  mi^^^ht  rest 
assured  the  i^reat  body  of  Vir<iiuia,  in  and  )ut  of  the  Uonven- 
tion,  would  concur  in  these  views,  viz:  That  allhoujih  strongly 
opposed  to  a  presidential  election  upon  a  sectional,  free-soil 
platform,  which  they  deplored  as  most  danj»er  >us  and  unwise,' 
Mrjiinia  did  not  approve  of  makinj?  that,  evil  as  it  was,  a 
casus  belli,  or  a  ground  for  disrupting  the  Union.  That  much 
as  Mrginia  disapproved  it,  if  Mr.  Lincoln  would  only  adhere 
faithfully  to  the  Constitution  and  the  laws,  she  would  supi>ort 
him  just  as  faithfully  as  though  he  were  the  man  of  her  choice, 
and  would  wield  her  whole  moral  force  to  keep  the  border 
►States  in  the  Union,  and  to  bring  back  the  seven  seceded  States. 
But  that  while  much  difference  of  opinion  existed  :)n  the  ques- 
ti<m,  whether  the  right  of  secession  was  a  constitutional  one, 
all  Virginians  were  unanimous  in  believing  that  no  right  ex- 
isted in  the  Federal  Government  to  coerce  a  State  by  force  of 
arms,  because  it  was  expressly  withheld  by  the  Uonstitutian; 
that  the  State  of  \"irginia  was  unaninn)usly  resolved  not  to 
asquiesce  in  the  usurpation  of  that  power,  as  had  been  declared 
by  unanimous  joint  resolution  of  her  present  Legislature,  and 
by  the  sovereign  Uonvention  n  )w  sitting,  according  to  the  tra- 
ditionary principles  of  the  State;  that  if  Virginia  remained  in 
the  Union,  the  other  border  States  would  follow  her  example, 
while,  if  she  were  driven  out,  they  would  probably  go  with  her, 
and  the  whole  Sautli  w  )uld  be  united  in  irreconcilable  hostility 
to  his  (TovernnuMit;  and  that  the  friends  of  peace  desired  to  have 
a  guarantee  that  liis  i)olicy  towards  the  seven  seceded  States 
would  be  pacific,  and  would  i-egard  their  rights  as  States;  with- 
out which  guarantee  the  Uonventiou  could  not  kccji  tlu^  jieople 
in  the  T'nion,  even  if  they  w:)uld. 

Lincoln  now  sh  )wed  very  plainly  that  tliis  view  was  dis- 
tasteful to  him.  He  intimated  that  the  peoj)le  of  the  South 
were  not  in  earnest  in  all  this.  He  said  that  in  Washington  he 
was  assured  that  all  the  resolutions  and  speeches  and  declara- 


92      COLONEL  BALDWIN'S  INTERVIEW  WITH  MR.  LINCOLN. 

lions  of  this  tenor  from  the  Soutli  wei-e  hut  a  '•^aine  of  h^af^" 
intended  to  intimidate  the  adminisriati  )n  parry,  the  ordinary 
and  holh)w  expedient  of  politicians;  that,  in  short,  when  the 
(rovernnient  showed  its  hand,  there  wonhl  "be  nothing  in  ir 
hni  talk."  Colonel  Baldwin  assured  him  solemnly  that  such 
advisers  fatally  misunderstood  the  South,  and  especially  \'ir- 
ginia,  and  that  upon  the  relinquishment  )r  adoption  of  the  pol- 
icy of  violent  coercion,  yeace  or  a  dreadful  wai-  would  inevita- 
bly turn.  Lincoln's  native  good  sense,  with  ('olonel  Baldwin's 
evident  sincerity,  seemed  now  to  open  his  eyes  to  this  truth. 
He  slid  off  the  edge  :)f  the  bed,  and  began  to  stalk  in  his  awk- 
ward manner  aci-oss  the  cham'ber,  in  great  excitement  and  per- 
jilexity.  He  clutched  his  shaggy  hair,  as  thougli  he  would  jerk 
out  handfuls  by  the  roots;  he  fi-owntnl  and  contorted  his  fea- 
tures, exclaiming:  "I  ought  to  have  known  tliis  soonerl  Ymi 
are  too  late,  sir,  foo  late'.  Why  did  you  not  come  here  four 
days  ago,  and  tell  me  all  this".'*"  turning  fiercely  upon  Colonel 
Baldwin.  He  replied:  "Why,  Mr.  President,  you  did  not  ask 
our  advice.  Besides,  as  soon  as  we  received  permission  to  ten- 
der it,  I  came  by  tlie  first  train,  as  fast  as  steam  would  bring 
me."  ''Yes,  but  you  are  too  late,  I  tell  you,  too  lateV  Colonel 
Baldwin  understood  this  as  a  dear  intinmtion  that  the  policy 
of  coercion  was  determined  on,  and  that  within  the  last  four 
days.  He  said  that  he  therefore  felt  im})elled,  by  a  solemn 
sense  of  duty  to  his  c  )untry,  to  make  a  final  effort  for  impress- 
ing Lincoln  with  the  truth.  "Never, "  said  he  to  me,  "did  1 
make  a  speech  m\  behalf  of  a  client,  in  jeopardy  of  his  life,  with 
such  earnest  solemnity  and  endeavor."  "And,"  he  added, 
"there  was  no  simulated  emotions;  for  wlu^n  he  perceived  from 
Lincoln's  hints,  and  from  the  workings  of  his  crafty  and  satur- 
nine countenance,  the  truculence  of  iiis  jiurpose.  his  own  soul 
was  filled  with  such  a  sense  of  the  coming  miseries  of  the  coun- 
try, and  of  the  irreparable  ruin  of  the  Constitution,  that  he  felt 
he  would  willingly  lay  down  his  life  t:)  avert  them."  He  en- 
deavored to  make  the  Bresident  feel  that  Providence  had  placed 
the  destiny  of  the  country  in  his  liands,  so  that  he  might  be 
forever  blessed  and  venerated  as  the  second  Washington — the 
savior  of  his  country — or  execrated  as  its  destroyer.  What 
policy,  then,  did  the  Union  men  of  Virginia  advise?  We  be- 
lieve, answered  Colonel  Baldwin,  that  one  single  step  will  be 


OOLOITEL  BALDWIN^S  INTEUvrEW  WITFI  MR.  LINCOLN. 


i)H 


sufficient  to  paralyze  the  secession  movement,  and  to  make  the 
true  friends  of  the  I'nion  mastei-s;  of  the  situation.  This  was  a 
simple  proclamation,  firmly  pledging-  the  new  administration 
to  respect  the  Constitution  and  laws,  and  the  rights  of  the 
States;  to  repudiate  the  power  of  coercing  seceded  States  by 
force  of  arms;  to  rely  uimn  conciliation  and  enlightened  self- 
interest  in  the  latter  to  bring  tlieni  back  into  the  Union,  and 
meantime  to  leave  all  questions  at  issue  t:i  be  adjudicated  by 
the  constitutional  tribunals.  The  obvious  ground  of  this  pol- 
icy was  in  the  fact  that  it  was  not  the  question  of  free-soil 
which  threatened  to  rend  the  country  in  twain,  but  a  well 
grounded  alarm  at  the  attempted  overthraw  of  the  Constitu- 
lion  and  liberty,  by  the  usurpation  of  a  power  to  crush  States. 
The  question  of  free-soil  had  no  such  importance  in  the  eyes  of 
the  people  of  the  border  States,  nor  even  of  the  seceded  States, 
as  to  become  at  once  a  casus  belli.  But,  in  the  view  of  all  par- 
ties in  the  border  States,  the  claim  of  coercion  had  infinite  im- 
portance. If,  as  Mr.  Lincoln  had  argued,  secession  was  uncon- 
stitutional, coercion  wa;s  moi'e  clearly  so.  When  attempted,  it 
must  necessarily  take  the  form  of  a  war  of  some  States  against 
other  States.  It  was  thus  the  death-knell  of  constitutional 
Union,  and  so  a  thorougli  revolution  of  the  Federal  Govern- 
ment. It  was  the  overthrow  of  the  reserved  rights  of  the  States, 
and  these  were  the  only  bulwark  of  the  liberty  of  the  people. 
This,  then,  was  the  real  cause  of  alarm  at  the  South,  and  not 
the  claim  of  free-soil,  unjust  as  was  the  latter;  hence,  all  that 
was  necessary'  to  reduce  the  free-soil  controversy  to  harmles.s 
and  manageable  dimensions,  was  to  reassure  the  vSouth  against 
the  dreaded  usurpation  of  which  free-soil  threatened  to  be  made 
the  pretext.  This,  Colonel  lialdwin  showed,  could  easily  be 
done  by  a  policy  of  conciliation,  without  giving  sanction  to 
what  ^Ir.  Lincoln's  administration  chose  to  regard  as  the  heresy 
of  secession!  The  Government  would  still  hold  the  Union  and 
the  Constitution  as  perpetual,  and  the  separate  attitude  of  the 
seceded  States  as  temporary,  while  it  relied  upon  moderation, 
justice,  self-interest  of  the  Southern  people,  and  the  potent 
mediation  of  the  border  States  to  terminate  it.  "Only  give  this 
assurance  to  the  counrry,  in  a  i)roclamation  of  five  lines,"  said 
Colonel  Baldwin,  "and  we  i»ledge  ourselves  that  Virginia  (and 
with  her  the  border  States)  will  stand  by  you  as  though  you 


9-1:      COLONEL  BALDWIN^S  USTTERVIEW  WITH  MR    LINCOLN. 

v^ere  our  own  Washington.  Ba  sure  am  I,"  he  added,  "of  tJiis, 
and  of  the  inevitable  ruin  which  will  be  precipitated  by  the  op- 
posite policy,  that  I  would  this  day  freely  consent,  if  you  would 
let  me  write  those  decisive  lines,  you  might  cut  off  my  head, 
were  my  life  my  own,  the  hour  after  you  signed  them.'" 

Lincoln  seemed  impressed  by  his  solemnity,  and  asked  a 
few  questions:  "But  what  am  I  to  do  meantime  with  thosf? 
men  at  Montgomery?  Am  I  to  let  them  go  on?''  "Yes,  sir." 
I'pplied  Colonel  Baldwin,  decisively,  "until  they  can  be  peace- 
ably l)i-ouglir  back."  "And  open  ("luirleston.  etc..  as  ports  of 
entry,  with  their  ten  per  cent,  tariff.  What,  then ,  would  be- 
come of  tuy  tartfff  This  last  question  he  announced  with  such 
emphasis,  as  showed  that  in  his  view  it  decided  the  whole  mat- 
ter. He  then  indicated  that  the  interview  was  at  an  end,  and 
dismissed  Colonel  Baldwin,  without  i»romising  anything  more 
definite. 

In  order  to  confirm  the  accuracy  of  my  own  memory,  I 
have  submitted  the  above  narrative  to  the  Honorable  A.  H.  H. 
Stuart.  r\)loiiel  Baldwin's  neighbor  and  political  associate,  and 
the  only  surviving  member  of  the  commission  soon  alter  sent 
from  the  Virginia  Convention  to  Washington.  In  a  letter  to 
me,  he  says:  "When  Colonel  Baldwin  returned  to  Richmond, 
he  reported  to  the  four  gentlemen  above  named,  and  to  Mr. 
Samuel  Price,  of  Greenbrier,  the  substance  of  his  interview  with 
Lincoln  substantially  as  he  stated  it  to  you?'' 

I  asked  Colonel  Baldwin  what  was  the  explanation  of  this 
remarkable  scene,  and  especially  of  Lincoln's  perplexity.  He 
replied  that  the  explanation  had  always  appeared  to  him  to  be 
this:  When  the  sev^n  Gulf  States  had  actually  seceded,  the 
Lincoln  faction  were  greatly  surprised  and  in  great  uncertainty 
what  to  do;  for  they  had  been  blind  enough  to  suppose  that  all 
Southern  opposition  to  a  sectional  President  had  been  empty 
bluster.  They  were  fully  aware  that  neither  Constitution  nor 
laws  gave  them  any  right  to  coerce  a  State  to  remain  in  the 
Union.  The  whole  people,  even  in  the  imperious  North,  knew 
and  recognized  this  truth.  The  New  York  Tribune,  even,  ad- 
mitted it.  violent  as  it  was,  and  deprecated  a  Union  "pinned  to- 
gether with  bayonets."  Even  General  Winfield  Scott,  the  mili- 
tary "Man  Friday,"  of  Federal  power,  advised  that  the  Govern- 
ment should  say:    "Erring  Sisters,  go  in  peace."    So  strong  was 


coLONKL  Baldwin's  interview  with  mr.  Lincoln.     95 

the  conviction,  even  in  the  Northern  mind,  that  sncli  jonnials  as 
Harper's  Weekly  and  Monthly,  shrewdly  mercenary  in  their 
whole  aim,  were  notoriously  courting-  the  secession  feeling. 
New  York,  the  tinancial  capital  of  America,  was  well  known 
to  be  oppDsed  to  the  faction  and  lo  coenion.  Tlu^  previous 
Congress  had  expired  without  daring  to  pass  any  coercive  mea- 
sures. The  administration  was  not  at  all  certain  that  the  pub- 
lic opinion  of  the  American  i>eoi)le  could  be  made  to  tolerate 
anyrhing  so  illegal  and  mischievous  as  a  war  of  coercion.  (Sub- 
sequent events  and  declarations  betrayed  also  how  well  the 
Lincoln  faction  knew  at  the  time  that  it  was  utterly  unlawful. 
For  instance:  when  Lincoln  launched  into  that  war,  he  did  not 
dare  to  say  that  he  was  warring  against  States,  and  for  the 
purpose  of  coercing  them  into  a  F'ederal  Uni  )n  of  force.  In 
his  proclamation  calling  for  the  first  seventy-five  thousand  sol- 
diers, he  had  deceitfully  stated  that  they  were  to  be  used  to 
sui>port  the  laws,  to  repossess  Federal  property  and  places,  and 
to  suppress  irregular  combinations  of  individuals  pretending 
to  or  usurping  the  powers  of  State  (Tovernments.  The  same  was 
the  tone  of  all  the  war  speakers  and  war  journals  at  first.  They 
admitted  thar  a  State  could  not  be  coerced  into  the  Union;  but 
they  held  that  no  State  really  and  legitimately  desired  to  go  out, 
or  had  gone  out — "the  great  Union-loving  majority  in  the 
South  had  been  overruled  by  a  factious  secession  minority,  and 
the  Union  troops  were  only  to  liberate  them  from  that  violence, 
and  enable  them  to  declare  their  unabated  love  for  the  Union." 
No  well  informed  man  was,  at  first,  absurd  enough  to  speak  of 
a  State  as  ''committing  treason"  against  the  confederation,  the 
creature  of  the  States;  the  measure  was  always  spoken  of  as 
"Secession,"  the  actors  v/ere  "Secessionists."  and  even  their  ter- 
ritory was  ''Secessia."  It  remained  for  an  ecclesiastical  body, 
pretended  rei)resentative  of  the  Church  of  the  Prince  of  Peace, 
in  their  ignorant  and  venomous  spirit  of  persecution,  to  apply 
the  term  "treason"  first  to  the  movement  in  favor  of  liberty.) 
The  action  of  the  seven  States,  then,  perplexed  the  Lincoln  fac- 
tion excessively.  On  the  other  hand,  the  greed  and  spite  of  the 
hungry  crew,  who  were  now  grasping  the  power  and  spoils  so 
long  passionately  craved,  could  not  endni-e  tlu'  th  )ught  rh;»t 
the  l)i-ize  should  thus  collaj)se  in  tln^r  hands.  Hence,  when 
the  administration  assembled  at  Washington,  it  probably  had 


96    COLONEL  Baldwin's  interview  with  mr.  lincoln. 

no  very  detinite  policy.  Seward,  wlio  assiiiued  to  do  the  think- 
ing for  them,  was  temporizing.  Colonel  Baldwin  supposed  it 
was  the  visit,  and  the  terrorizing  of  the  "radical  Governors," 
which  had  just  decided  Lincoln  to  adopt  the  violent  policy. 
They  had  especially  asserted  that  the  secession  of  the  seven 
States,  and  the  convening  and  solemn  admonitions  of  State  con- 
ventions in  the  others,  formed  but  a  system  of  bluster,  or,  in 
the  vulgar  phrase  of  Lincoln,  but  a  "gauu^  of  brag";  that  the 
Southern  States  were  neither  willing  nor  able  to  fight  for  their 
own  cause,  being  paralyzed  by  their  fear  of  servile  insurrection. 
Thus  they  liad  urged  ujjon  Lincoln,  that  tlie  best  way  to  secure 
his  party  triumph  was  to  i)recipitate  a  collision.  Lincoln  liad 
probably  committed  himself  to  this  ])olie3',  without  Seward's 
]u-ivity,  within  the  last  four  days;  and  the  very  men  whom  Col- 
onel Baldwin  found  in  conclave  with  him  were  probably  intent 
upon  this  conspiracy  at  the  time.  But  when  Colonel  Baldwin 
solemnly  assured  Lincoln  that  this  violent  policy  would  infal- 
libly precipitate  the  border  States  into  an  obsfinate  war,  the 
natural  shrewdness  of  the  latter  was  sufficient  to  open  his  eyes, 
at  least  partiall}',  and  he  saw  that  his  factious  ciounsellors, 
])linded  by  hatred  and  contempt  of  the  Soutli,  had  reasoned 
falsely;  yet,  having  just  committed  himself  to  tliem,  he  had  not 
manliness  euougli  to  recede.  And  above  all,  the  policy  urged 
by  Colonel  Baldwin  would  have  disappointed  the  hopes  of  leg- 
islative ])lund('r,  by  means  of  inflated  tariffs,  which  were  the 
real  aims  for  which  free-soil  was  the  mask. 

Thus  far  Colonel  Baldwin's  narrative  proceeded.  The  con- 
versation then  turned  ux)on  the  astonishing  supineuess  (or  blind- 
ness) of  the  consel'vatives,  so-called,  of  the  Xorth,  to  the  high- 
lianded  usurpations  of  their  own  rights,  perpetrated  by  Lincoln 
and  Seward,  under  pretext  of  subduing  the  seceded  States,  such 
as  the  suspension  of  habeas  corpus,  the  State  prisons,  the  ar- 
rests without  indictment,  and  the  martial  law  imposed,  at  tlie 
beck  of  the  Federal  power,  in  States  called  by  itself  "loyal."  1 
asked:  "Can  it  be  possible  that  the  Northern  people  are  so  ig- 
norant as  to  have  lost  the  traditionary  rudiments  of  a  free  gov- 
ernment?" His  reply  was,  that  he  apprehended  the  Northern 
mind  really  cared  uotliing  for  liberty;  what  they  desired  was 
only  lucrative  arrangements  with  other  States. 

The  correctness  of  Colonel  Baldwin's  surmises  concerning 


COLONEL  Baldwin's  intfrview  with  mr.  Lincoln.     07 

the  motives  of  Liiicohr.s  policy  receives  these  two  confirmations. 
After  the  return  of  tlie  foi-mei-  to  Hichiiiond.  rlie  Conventiau 
sent  the  commission,  which  lias  heen  described,  composed  of 
Messrs.  Wni.  B.  Preston,  A.  H.  H.  Stuart,  and  Geo.  W.  Ran- 
dolph.    They  were  to  ascertain  definitely  what  the  J*resident's 
policy  was  to  be.    They  endeavjied  to  reach  Washington  in  the 
early  part  of  the  week  in  which  Fort  Sumter  was  bombarded, 
but  were  delayed  by  storms  and  hi<ih  wat(M-,  so  that  they  only 
reached  there  via  ]>altiniore,  Friday,  April  12th.    They  appear- 
ed promptly  at  the  White  House,  and  were  i)ut  off  until  Satur- 
day for  their  formal  interview,  although  Lincoln  saw  them  for 
a  short  time.    On  Saturday  Lincoln  read  to  them  a  written  an- 
swer to  the  resolutions  of  Convention  laid  before  him,  which 
was  obviously  scarcely  dry  fr:>m  the  pen  of  a  clei-k.    "This  pa- 
per," says  ^Ir.  Stuart,  "was  ambiguous  and  evasive,  but  in  the 
main  professed  jjeaceful  intentions."     Mr.  Stuart,  in  answer  to 
this  paper,  sj)oke  freely  and  at  laroe,  "ur<i:in<4-  foi-bearance  and 
the  evacuation  of  the  forts,  etc."     Lincoln  made  the  objection 
that  all  the  goods  would  be  imported   through  the  ports  of 
Charleston,  etc.,  and  the  sources  of  revenue  dried  up.     "I  re- 
member," says  Mr.  Stuart,  "that  he  used  this  lumiely  expres- 
sion:   'If  I  do  that,  what  will  become  of  my  revenue?    I  might 
as  well  shut  up  housekeeping  at  once!'     But  his  declarations 
were  distinctly  jjacific,  and  he  expressly  disclaimed  all  purpose 
of  war."     Mr.  Seward  and  Mr.  Bates,  Attorney  General,  also 
gave  Mr.  Stuart  the  same  assurances  of  peace.     The  next  day 
the  commissioners  returned  to  Richmond,  and  the  very  train 
on  which  they  traveled  carried  Lincoln's  j)roclanintion,  calling 
far  the  seventy-five  thousand  men  to  wage  a  war  of  coercion. 
"This  proclamation,"  says  Mr.  Stuart,  "was  carefully  withheld 
from  us,  although  it  was  in  print;  and  we  knew  nothing  of  it 
until  Monday  morning,  when  it  appeared  in  the  Richmond  pa- 
pers.    When  I  saw  it  at  breakfast,  I  thought  it  n)ust  be  a  mis- 
chievous hoax;  for  I  could  not  believe  Lincoln  guilty  of  such 
duplicity.     Firmly  believing  it  was  a  forgery,  I  wrote  a  tele- 
gram, at  the  breakfast  table  of  the  Exchange  Hotel,  and  sent 
it  to  Seward,  asking  him  if  it  was  genuine.     Before  Seward's 
reply  was  received,  the  Fredericksburg  train  came  in,  bringing 
the  Washington  papers,  containing  the  proclamation." 

The  (tiher  confirmation  of  Colonel    liald win's    hypothesis 


98    COLONEL  Baldwin's  interview  with  mr.  lincoli?. 

was  presented  a  few  weeks  after  the  end  of  the  war,  in  a  cur- 
ious interview  with  a  personal  friend  and  apologist  of  Seward. 
The  first  volume  of  my  life  of  Jackson  had  been  published  in 
London,  in  which  I   characterized  the  shameless  lie  told  by 
Heward  to  the  commissioners  from  Montgomery,  through  Judge 
Campbell,  touching  the  evacuation  of  Sumter.    This  friend  and 
apologist  of  Seward  said  that  I  was  unjust  to  him,  because 
when  he  promised  the  evacuation,  he  designed  and  thought  him- 
self able  to  fulfill  it;  but  between  the  making  and  breaking  of 
the  pledge,  a  total  change  of  policy  had  been  forced  ujxtn  the 
administration,  against  Mr.  Seward's  advice,  "by  Thad.  Stevens 
and  the  radical  Grovernors."     Seward,  abolitionist,  and  knave 
as  he  was,  still  retained  enough  of  the  statesmanlike  traditions 
of  the  better  days  of  the  republic,  to  know  that  coercion  was 
unlawful,  and  that  a  war  between  the  States  was,  of  course,  the 
annihilation  of  the  Union.     It  suited  his  partisan  and  selfish 
designs  to  talk  of  an  "irrepressible  conflict,"  and  to  pretend 
contempt  for  "effeminate  slavocrats";  but  he  had  sense  enough 
to  know  that  the  South  would  make  a  desperate  defense  of  her 
rights,  and  would  be  a  most  formidable  adversary,  if  pushed  to 
the  wall.    Hence,  Mr.  Seward,  with  General  Scott,  had  advised 
a  temporizing  policy  towards  the    Montgomery    government, 
without  violence,  and  Mr.  Lincoln  had  acceded  to  their  policy. 
Hence,  the  promises  to  Judge  Campbell.    Meantime,  the  radical 
Governors  came  down,  "having  great  wrath,"  to  terrorize  the 
administration.    They  spoke  in  this  strain :    "Seward  cries  per- 
petually 'that  we  must  not  do  this,  and  that,  for  fear  war  should 
result.    Seward  is  shortsighted.    War  is  precisely  the  thing  we 
should  desire.    Our  party  interests  have  everything  to  lose  by  a 
peaceable  settlement  of  this  trouble,  and  everything  to  gain  by 
collision.    For  a  generation  we  have  been  'the  outs';  now  at 
last  we  are  'the  ins.'    While  in  opposition,  it  was  very  well  to 
prate  of  Constitution,  and  of  rights;  but  now  we  are  the  gov- 
ernment, and  mean  to  continue  so;  and  our  interest  is  to  have 
a  strong  and  centralized  government.    It  is  high  time  now  that 
the  government  were  revolutionized  and  consolidated,  and  these 
irksome  'States'  rights'  wiped  out.    We  need  a  strong  govern- 
ment to  dispense  much  wealth  and  power  to  its  adherents;  we 
want  permanently  high  tariffs,  to  make  the  South  tributary  to 
the  North;  and  now  these  Southern  fellows  are  giving  us  pre- 


Colonel  Baldwin's  interview  with  mr.  Lincoln.    99 

cisely  the  opportunity  we  want  to  do  all  this,  and  shall  iSewaid 
sing  his  silly  song  of  the  necessity  of  avoiding  war?  War  is  the 
very  thing  we  should  hail  I  The  Southern  men  are  rash,  and 
now  profoundly  irritated.  Our  plan  should  be,  by  some  artifice, 
to  provake  them  to  seem  to  strike  the  first  blow.  Then  we 
shall  have  a  pretext  with  which  to  unite  the  now  divided  North, 
and  make  them  fly  to  arms.  The  Southerners  are  a  braggart, 
but  a  cowardly  and  effeminate  set  of  bullies;  we  shall  easily 
whip  them  in  three  months.  But  this  short  war  will  be,  if  we 
are  wise,  our  sufficient  occasion.  We  will  use  it  to  destroy 
slavery,  and  thus  permanently  cripple  the  South.  And  that  is 
the  stronghold  of  all  these  ideas  of  'limited  government'  and 
'rights  of  the  people.'  Crush  the  South,  by  abolisliiug  slavery, 
and  we  shall  have  all  we  want — a  consolidated  government,  an 
indefinite  party  ascendancy,  and  ability  to  lay  on  such  'tariffs 
and  taxes  as  we  please,  and  aggrandize  ourselves  and  our  sec- 
tion!" 

These,  Mr.  Seward's  apologist  declared  to  me,  were  the 
reasons  which,  together  with  their  predictions  and  threats  of 
popular  rage,  converted  Lincoln  from  the  policy  of  Seward  to 
that  of  Stevens.  Hence  the  former  was  compelled  to  break  his 
promise  through  Judge  Campbell,  and  to  assist  in  the  malig- 
nant stratagem  by  which  the  South  Carolinians  were  con- 
strained ''to  fire  on  the  tiag."  The  diabolical  success  of  the  ar- 
tifice is  well  known. 

The  importance  of  this  narrative  is,  that  it  unmasks  the 
true  authors  and  nature  of  the  bloody  war  through  which  we 
have  passed.  We  see  that  the  Radicals  provoked  it,  not  to  pre- 
serve, but  to  destroy  the  Union.  It  demonstrates,  effectually, 
that  Virginia  and  the  border  States  were  acting  with  better 
faith  to  preserve  the  T^nion  than  was  Lincoln's  Cabinet.  Colonel 
Baldwin  showed  him  conclusively  that  it  was  not  free-soil,  evil 
as  that  was,  which  really  endangered  the  T'nion.  but  coercion. 
He  showed  him  that,  if  coercion  were  relinquished,  Mrginia 
and  the  border  States  stood  pledged  to  labor  with  him  for  the 
restoration  of  I'nion,  and  would  assuredly  be  able  to  effect  it. 
Eight  slave-holding  border  States,  with  seventeen  hireling 
States,  would  certainly  have  wielded  sufficient  moral  and  ma- 
terial weight,  in  the  cause  of  what  Lincoln  professed  to  believe 
the  clear  truth  and  right,  to  reassure  and  win  back  the  seven 


100   COLONEL  Baldwin's  interview  with  mr.  Lincoln. 

little  seceded  fc?tates,  or,  if  they  became  lojstile,  to  restniin 
them.  But  coercion  arraigned  fifteen  against  seventeen  in  mu- 
tually destructive  war.  Lincoln  acknowledged  the  conclusive- 
ness of  this  reasoning  in  the  agony  of  remorse  and  perplexity, 
in  the  writhings  and  tearings  of  hair,  of  which  Colonel  Bald- 
win was  witness.  But  what  was  the  decisive  weight  that  turned 
the  scale  against  peace,  and  right,  and  patriotism?  It  was  the 
interest  of  a  sectional  taritf  1  His  single  objection,  both  to  the 
wise  advice  of  Colonel  Baldwin  and  Mr.  Stuart,  was:  "Then 
what  would  become  of  my  tariffs?"  He  was  shrewd  enough  to 
see  that  the  just  and  liberal  free-trade  policy  proposed  by  the 
Montgomery  Government  would  speedily  build  up,  by  the  help 
of  the  magnificent  ^Duthern  staples,  a  beneficent  foreign  com- 
merce through  Confederate  ports;  that  the  Northern  people, 
whose  lawless  and  mercenary  character  he  understood,  could 
never  be  restrained  from  smuggling  across  the  long  open  fron- 
tier of  the  Confederacy;  that  thus  the  whole  country  would  be- 
come habituated  to  the  benefits  of  free-trade,  so  that  when  the 
schism  was  healed  (as  he  knew  it  would  be  healed  in  a  few  years 
by  the  policy  of  Virginia),  it  would  be  too  late  to  restore  the 
iniquitious  system  of  sectional  plunder  by  tariffs,  which  his  sec- 
tion so  much  craved.  Hence,  when  Virginia  ofl'ered  him  a  safe 
way  to  preserve  the  Union,  he  preferred  to  destroy  the  Union 
and  preserve  his  tariffs.  The  war  was  conceived  in  duplicity, 
and  brought  forth  in  iniquity. 

The  calculated  treason  of  Lincoln's  Radical  advisers  is  yet 
more  glaring.  When  their  own  chosen  leader,  Seward,  avowed 
that  there  was  no  need  for  war,  they  deliberately  and  malig- 
nantly practiced  to  produce  war,  for  the  purpose  of  overthrow- 
ing the  Constitution  and  the  Union,  to  rear  their  own  greedy 
faction  upon  the  ruins.  This  war,  with  all  its  crimes  and  mis- 
eries, was  proximately  concocted  in  Washington  City,  by  North- 
ern men.  ^^ith  malice  prepense. 


THE  TRUE  PURPOSE  OF  THE  CIVIL  WAR. 


Wa  all  know,  that  tlie  professed  purpose  of  the  war  party 
was  to  preserve  and  restore  the  Union  over  all  the  States.  But 
the  disclosures  made  above  hy  Colonel  Baldwin  of  the  aims  of 
the  head  of  that  party,  are  sufficient  to  prove  that  the  real  pur- 
l)ose  was  far  Jther  than  the  pretense: — to  enlarge  and  perpetuate 
the  power  of  his  faction.  This  had  just  seized  the  reins  of 
Federal  power  by  an  accident,  being  in  fact  but  a  minority  of 
the  .American  people.  This  people  had  condemned  it  to  a 
righteous  exclusion  from  power  for  forty  years.  Its  leaders 
were  weary,  envious  and  angry  with  their  long  waiting,  and 
hungry  for  the  power  and  the  spoils  of  ottice.  These  cunning 
men  were  fully  conscious  that  their  tenure  of  power,  won  by 
luck  and  artifice,  would  be  precarious  and  brief.  The  old  party 
of  Federal  usurpation  and  centralization  had  dubbed  itself,  by 
a  strong  misnomer,  the  Whig  party.  The  people,  at  ten  presi- 
dential elections,  or  congressional  issues,  had  rejected  their 
pr  )ject.  At  length,  despairing  of  Wctory  by  its  old  tactics,  it 
had  thrown  itself  into  the  arms  of  the  later  born  and  despicable 
party  of  the  Abolitionists,  who  iiad  at  last  succeeded  in  their 
purpose  of  raising,  in  numerous  States,  their  designed  tempest 
of  fanaticism.  Thus  the  older  and  larger  party  gave  itself 
away  to  the  younger,  smaller,  and  more  indecent  one;  and  by 
this  traffic  the  two  had  won  in  November,  1800,  an  apparent 
success,  so  far  as  to  make  its  leader  a  minority  President.  The 
manipulators  well  knew  their  danger  from  "the  sober  second 
thought"  of  the  American  people.  It  was  but  too  pi-obable 
that  the  elements  of  justice  and  conservatism,  unfortunately  di- 
vided in  1800.  would  reunite  in  1801  to  restore  the  Constitu- 
tion. Hence,  "had  they  great  wrath,"  because  they  knew  their 
time  was  short.  They  knew  that  something  more  must  be  done 
to  ijitiiime  the  contest  between  fanatii-ism  and  conservatism,  or 
iiieir  glorying  would  be  short. 

The  hasty  secession  of  South  Carolina  and  the  six  Gulf 
States,  although  justified  by  the  avowed  revolutionary  section- 

101 


102  THE  TRUE  PURPOSE  OF  THE  CIVIL  WAR. 

alism  of  the  new  party  in  power,  gave  them  their  coveted  oppor- 
tunity. The  conspirators  said  to  each  other:  ''Now  we  have 
our  game.  We  will  inflame  fanaticism  and  sectional  enmities 
by  the  cry  of  Union  and  Kebellion,  and  thus  precipitate  a  war 
between  ihe  States.  Inf^r  armor  silent  leges.  Our  war  will 
be  short;  for  we  believe  these  Southern  slavocrats  much  more 
boastful  than  valiant;  and.  chiefly,  we  will  paralyze  their  re- 
sistance by  lighting  the  fires  of  servile  insurrection,  plunder, 
arson,  rape  and  murder  in  their  rear.  Rut  this  short  war  will 
suffice  for  us.  to  centralize  Federal  power,  overthrow  the  Con- 
stitution, fix  our  high  tariffs  and  plutocratic  fiscal  system  upon 
the  country  and  secure  f^r  ourselves  an  indefinite  tenure  of 
power  and  riches.''  Such  were  precisely  the  counsels  by  which 
such  leaders  as  Senator  Pomeroy,  Mr.  Thaddeus  Stevens,  Grov- 
ernors  Morton,  Currin.  Andrews,  etc..  hectored  the  ignorant  and 
vacillating  chief  of  their  party  into  war,  against  the  advice  of 
real  Union  men  Xorth  and  vSouth,  and  especially  against  the 
views  of  his  own  Premier,  William  H.  Seward.  This  man, 
while  the  most  unscrupulous  of  trafficers,  and  the  chief  archi- 
tect of  the  new  faction,  knew  well,  as  did  all  statesmen  and 
constitutional  lawyers,  that  the  Constitution  gave  the  Federal 
Government,  the  creature  of  the  Federated  States,  no  right  to 
coerce  the  seceded  States,  its  own  sovereigns  and  creators.  He 
was  older  than  his  supplanters  in  his  own  faction,  and  however 
unscrupulous,  was  too  much  imbued  with  the  precedents,  prin- 
ciples and  feelings  of  the  older  and  better  days,  to  bring  him- 
self at  once  to  the  atrocity  of  kindling  a  war  between  the 
States;  hence.  Mr.  Seward  had  adopted  the  smoother  and  wiser 
policy.  He  had  induced  his  chief  to  make  an  ambiguous  de- 
liverance in  his  inaugural.  March  4.  ISOl.  He  believed  that  he 
would  be  able  so  to  direct  the  plans  of  his  presidential  tool  as 
to  make  him  adhere  to  the  pacific  jM^licy.  P.ut  he  was  mis- 
taken. The  more  forward  and  heady  conspirators  gathered  in 
Washington,  wrested  his  tool  out  of  his  hand,  and  turned  it 
against  him. 

These  new  advisers  were  aware  that  a  Federal  executive 
had  no  more  constitutional  or  legal  right  of  his  own  motion  to 
attack  a  seceded  State,  than  the  poorest  constable  in  the  most 
obscure  township.  But  they  were  in  too  much  haste  to  wait  for 
the  semblance  of  authority  from  a  congressional  force  bill,  un- 


THE  TRUE  PURPOSE  OF  THE  CIVIL  WAR.  103 

autlioi-ized  and  flimsy  as  such  a  semblance  would  be.  Nor  did 
they  feel  certain  that  even  their  rump  Congress  would  be  per- 
suaded to  enact  a  war  against  sovereign  States  no  longer  in 
the  Federation,  nor  represented  in  their  body,  nor  subject  toM, 
their  jurisdiction.  The  Senators  and  Eepresentatives  of  seven 
States  would  be  absent;  but  those  of  the  great  Union-loving 
Border  States,  North  Carolina,  Virginia,  Maryland,  Kentucky, 
Tennessee,  Missouri  and  Arkansas,  would  be  present.  Such  a 
rump  Congress  might  indeed  include  a  number  of  the  admirers 
of  Andrew  Jackson,  but  they  would  be  too  just  and  clear  sight- 
ed to  claim  the  precedent  of  his  force  bill  of  18.38  against 
South  Carolina,  even  though  they  did  not  regard  it.  as  true 
history  will,  as  the  mere  expression  of  a  tyrannical  temper  and 
of  personal  hatreds  in  that  famous  renegade  to  the  principles 
of  the  party  which  elected  him.  For  that  force  bill  was  direct- 
ed against  a  State  which  claimed  to  be  still  in  the  Union,  while 
nullifying  within  her  own  borders  an  unjust  Federal  law.  It 
was  wholly  another  thing  for  the  Federal  Government  to  de- 
clare war  against  seven  seceded  States,  no  longer  under  their 
authority,  but  withdrawn  from  it  by  sovereign  acts  more  for- 
mal and  legal  than  those  which  had  made  them  parties  to  the 
T'nion.  Therefore  the  consj)irators  saw  that  a  war  must  be 
precipitated  without  the  semblance  of  law,  and  against  law  and 
the  Constitution.  By  what  expedient?  By  that  of  an  auda- 
cious and  gigantic  lie  I  They  knew  that  in  fact  every  stej)  and 
act  of  self-defense  taken  by  the  seceded  States  had  been  an 
act  of  formal,  legal  statehood  executed  by  constitutional  au- 
thorities, the  same,  to-wit.  which  had  first  made  those  States 
members  of  the  Federal  Union.  But  rhey  would  impudently 
discard  this  great  fact  and  call  those  actions  illegal  riots,  the 
doings  of  insurrectionary  individuals  assembled  against  the 
law.  They  would  rely  upon  the  hot  arrogance  of  triumphant 
fanaticism  and  the  revival  of  passions  which  they  themselves 
had  "set  on  fire  of  hell."  to  overlook  this  essential  difference. 
Thus  they  would  seemingly  bring  this  terrible  usurpation  of 
their  President  under  the  scope  of  his  authority  to  enforce 
laws  and  suppress  illegal  violence.  So  he  was  made  to  begin 
his  famous  war  proclamation  of  April,  ISGl.  which  made  the 
most  dreadful  strife  of  modern  times,  with  a  stupendous  false- 


10-4  THE  TRUE  PURPOSE  OF  THE  CIVIL  WAR. 

li )()(!.  On  that  foul  fDundatioii  rest  all  llu'  subscijuciit  ci'inies 
(»f  cuei'L-iou  aud  reconstruction. 

That  this  war  wa.s  made,  not  to  preserve  a  constitutional 
Union,  but  solely  to  promote  the  aims  of  a  faction,  is  continned 
by  these  further  facts.  Its  puriK)se  was  clearly  betrayed  by 
the  final  re])ly  of  ^Ir.  Lincoln  to  Colonel  Baldwin's  noble  ap- 
peal for  conciliation:  "What,  then,  will  become  of  my  tariff?'' 
He  might  as  well  have  said  out  aloud,  that  he  was  making  this 
war,  not  to  preserve  a  Union,  but  to  enforce  his  projected  high 
taritt".  Next,  every  thoughtful  nnm.  North  and  South,  friend  or 
foe  of  the  Tnion.  knew  perfectly  well  that  the  Montgoauery 
Confederacy  of  seven  States  must  be  short  lived  if  it  remained 
alone  with:)ut  the  border  States.  If  I  may  borrow  a  new  term 
of  finance,  it  would  have  been  the  easiest  thing  in  the  world  to 
"freeze  out"  this  weak  association.  By  giving  them  a  useless  in- 
dependence, making  them  feel  the  inconveniences  of  separation, 
and  holding  peaceably  and  steadily  before  them  the  benefits 
and  j)rotection  of  the  old.  just  c;)nstitutional  T'nion.  So  3Ir. 
Seward  knew;  and  on  this  belief  his  i)olicy  was  founded.  So 
the  Virginian  statesman  and  ardent  lover  of  the  I'nion,  Alex- 
ander H.  Stewart,  assured  ^Ir.  Line  )ln.  So  Cohtnel  Baldwin; 
so  ex-Governor  Mjrehead.  of  Kentucky.  My  jxiint  is  then,  that 
the  seven  seceded  States  could  have-  been  brought  back  with 
certainty  by  pacific  means.  For  the  T'nion,  no  war  was  needed. 
It  was  made  solely  in  the  interest  of  the  Jacobin  party. 

Secessionists  and  L^nion  men  alike  knew  that  the  Mont- 
gomei"y  Confederacy  could  not  stand,  without  the  accession  of 
the  great  border  States.  But  the  latter  were  still  firm  friends 
of  the  Union.  They  judged,  like  the  secessionists,  that  the 
abolition  and  free-soil  movement  was  sectional,  mischievous, 
insulting,  and  perilous;  but  they  had  calmly  resolved  not  to 
make  it  a  casus  belli,  wicked  as  it  was.  They  had  distinctly  re- 
fused  to  go  out  of  the  I'nion  on  that  issue.  They  jtledged  them- 
selves to  supi)ort  ^Ir.  Lincoln  l(»yally  and  legally,  though  not 
the  President  of  their  choice,  and  to  conciliate  the  seceded 
States  provided  the  crime  of  coercion  was  foreborne.  But  they 
assured  Mr.  Lincoln  that  this  usur]>ati  )n  and  crime  would  in- 
fallibly drive  them,  though  reluctant,  into  the  secession  camp. 
Thi«  made  it  perfectly  plain  that  peace  meant  a  restored  Union, 
while  war  meant  disunion.    But  the  Jacobins  needed  a  war  for 


THE  TRUE  PURPOSE  OF  THE   CIVIL  WAR.  105 

their  owu  factious  euds.  There  was  nothing-  they  disliked  so 
much  as  a  Union  peaceably  restored.  Therefore  they  preferred 
The  tactics  which  would  insure  war.  and  that  yu  the  most  gigan- 
tic scale,  rarlun-  than  peace  and  union.  Their  problem  was  how 
to  make  sure  of  the  spilling  of  blood.  Thus  while  those  pa- 
triotic and  unii)n-loving  statesmen,  Messrs.  Stewart  and  Bald- 
win, were  pleading  with  Mr.  Lincoln  not  to  coerce,  because  co- 
ercion would  precipitate  certain  disunion  and  a  dreadful  war, 
they  were  })roducing  upon  the  cunning  and  malignant  minds  of 
the  Jacobin  leaders  a  conclusion  exactly  opposite  to  the  one 
they  desired.  Those  minds  said  to  themselves:  "Just  so; 
therefore  we  will  coerce,  because  it  is  wdv  which  we  craA'e,  and 
not  a  righteous  T'nion." 

The  history  of  the  peace-congress  confirms  this  explana- 
tion. It  will  stand  in  all  history  to  the  everlasting  glory  of  Vir- 
ginia, that  she  proposed  this  assemblage,  as  a  special  agency 
for  harmonizing  ditferences  and  restoring  a  true  Union.  She 
sent  to  it  her  wisest  patriots,  irrespective  of  })aity,  headed  b\ 
the  great  ex-President,  John  Tyler,  illustrious  for  hit-;  exjier- 
ience.  purity,  courtesy  and  fairness,  lint  the  Jacobin  leaders 
had  resoIv(Ml  that  there  should  be  no  peace;  and  this  ^^^thout 
waiting  to  see  what  terms  of  cunciliatiou  iuight  be  f jund.  It 
is  a  historical  fact,  that  definite  instructit)ns  went  forth  from 
their  head  in  advance,  that  the  etforts  of  the  Peace  Congress 
must  be  made  abortive.  The  motive  was  not  concealed:  that  the 
partisan  interests  of  the  Jacobins  were  adverse  tj  such  a  peace. 
Other  leaders  as  Senators  Chandler,  of  Michigan,  and  Wade,  of 
Ohio,  etc.,  declared  with  brutal  frankness,  that  the  case  requir- 
ed bb)od-letting,  instead  of  peace.  Therefore,  this  last  effort  of 
patriotism  and  love  for  the  Union  was  an  entire  failure. 

The  withdrawal  of  the  seven  States  from  Congress  left  the 
Jacobins  a  full  working  majority  during  the  months  of  Jan- 
uary and  February.  They  had  everything  their  own  way  in 
Congress.  But  every  effort  for  peace  and  union  uu^de  by  the 
patriotic  minority,  represented  by  Senator  Cnttenden.  of  Ken- 
tucky, was  systenuitically  repelled.  Even  when  the  coini)ro- 
mises  proposed  were  transparently  wortliless  to  the  South,  they 
were  refused.  The  final  word  of  Jacobinism  was:  "No  com- 
promise at  all,  fair  or  unfair,  but  absolute  submission,  or  war 
and  disunion."    The  utmost  pains  were  taken  to  teach  the  bor- 


106  THE  TRUE  PURPOSE  OF  THK  CIVIL  WAR. 

der  States  and  the  friends  of  the  Union  that  they  should  have  ni 
terms  save  abject  submission  to  such  constructions  as  the  Jaco- 
bin party  might  see  fit  to  put  upon  a  rent  and  outraged  Con- 
stitution.   The  proof  is  complete. 

Argument  is  scarcely  needed  to  denunstrate  that  the  in- 
famous reconstruciion  measures  were  taken,  not  in  the  inter- 
ests of  a  true  Union,  but  'O-f  this  Jacobin  faction.  For  their 
architects  brutally  disdained  to  conceal  their  object.  For  in- 
stance, one  of  their  leaders,  Alban  Tourgee,  in  his  "Fools  Er- 
rand," expressly  declares  that  the  purpose  of  reconstruction 
was  to  elect  another  Jacobin  President,  otherwise  jeopardized 
by  the  reunited  Democracy,  thrnugh  the  help  of  the  negro  suff- 
rage. And  he  declares  that  the  ])roject  was  short-sighted,  and 
destined  tD  ultimate  failure.  Mr.  Tourgee  has  here  slandered 
his  brethren.  Their  reconstruction  measures,  in  their  sense  of 
them,  were  an  entire  success.— and  did  just  what  they  designed. 
— helped  them  to  elect  a  series  of  Jacobin  Presidents  and  to  fix 
their  parties  and  policy  upon  the  country.  True;  those  measure.*? 
placed  the  noblest  white  race  on  earth  beneath  the  heels  of  a 
foul  minority  constructed  of  a  horde  of  black,  semi-barbarous 
ex-siaves  and  a  gang  of  white  jdunderers  and  renegades.  It 
infected  the  State  governments  of  the  South  with  corruption 
and  peculation.  It  injected  into  suffrage,  in  the  Southern 
States,  a  spreading  poison,  which  gives  a  new  impulse  to  the 
corruptions  of  the  ballot,  already  current  among  themselves, 
so  that  the  disease  is  now  remediless.  P>ut  what  did  the  Jaco- 
bins care  for  that?  They  had  gained  their  end.  more  Jacobin 
Presidents,  more  class  legislation,  a  surt^  reign  for  the  plutoc- 
racy. 

According  to  ;Mr.  Lincoln's  theory,  a  State  could  nat  go  out 
of  the  Union,  and  any  act  of  secession  is  ipso  facto  void  and 
null,  being  but  the  deed  of  an  illegal  riot,  and  not  of  a  legal 
body.  Hence  all  the  States  were  legally  in  the  Unian  through- 
out and  after  the  war.  Hence,  when  armed  resistance  ended, 
nothing  was  necessary  to  reinstate  the  so-called  seceding  com- 
monwealths in  their  full  Federal  status,  except  their  submis- 
sion to  the  chastisements  and  the  changes  laid  down  for  them 
by  the  will  of  their  conquerors.  The  subjugated  States  had  all 
made  that  submission  humbly  and  absolutely.  Nothing  should 
have  been  wanting,  therefore,  to  reinstate   them,    except  the 


TilE  TRUE  PURPOSE  OF  THE   CIVIL  WAR.  107 

witness  of  the  Chief  Executive  of  these  facts.  That  witness 
had  been  borue  expressly  and  fully  by  General  Grant  himself 
and  the  President. 

Mr.  Lincoln's  man  Friday,  Andrew  Johnson,  now  President 
by  the  accident  of  murder,  continued  to  stand  precisely  upon 
his  master's  avowed  platform.  Why  not?  The  whole  coercion 
party  professed  to  stand  on  it!  The  war  had  been  fought 
through  upon  that  ipretended  platform.  Why  should  not  An- 
drew Johnson  simply  reinstate  these  chastened  sisters  in  the 
T'nion,  by  his  executive  action  especially,  seeing  they  had  never 
been  out  of  it,  could  not  be  out  of  it,  and  had  fully  accepted 
their  chastisement?  But  that  simple  course  meant  the  follow- 
ing result:  T/ie  war  Dttnocrats  of  the  North,  rallying  the 
Southern  people  to  themselves,  would  elect  a  Democratic  Presi- 
dent! There  is  the  whole  rationale  and  cause  of  the  infamy  and 
treason  of  reconstruction.  And  this  explanation  stamps  the 
whole  war,  with  all  its  butcheries  and  miseries  as  a  gigantic  lie; 
and  this  result  has  given  a  perfect  justification  to  every  measure 
of  resistance  taken  by  the  States  assailed.  Such  was  the  final 
judgment  of  that  Union-lover  and  reluctant  Confederate,  that 
great  Christian  soldier,  Robert  E.  Lee,  as  he  went  down  with 
stately  yet  tragic  steps,  towards  the  toinb  and  the  judgment  bar 
of  the  omniscient  and  holy  God,  in  whom  he  believed. 
Victoria,  Texas,  Dec,  189G. 


THE  DUTY  OF  THE  HOUR.' 


Yjun^  ffeiitleiiien  of  the  Euiueueaii  and  niilaurliropic  So- 
cieties: I  am  here  to-day  in  response  not  only  to  yonr  call,  but 
lo  an  inijieraliyc^  spntinient.  This  is  the  sense  of  the  value  of 
the  younj;  men  of  the  South,  and  their  claims  upon  every  pa- 
triot. When  I  remember  how  your  class  has  lately  striven  and 
<lied  for  us — liow  this  seat  of  learning;-,  like  every  other  slirine  of 
the  Muses,  was  emptied  at  the  call  of  a  bleeding;  country,  I  feel 
that  you  have  earned  a  claim  ujion  our  symi)athies  and  aid, 
wliich  cannot  be  refused.  Xor  was  this  devotion  of  our  youth 
the  less  adminible — in  my  eyes  it  is  only  the  more  touchinji' — 
because  it  has  pleased  the  divine  dis])oser.  in  his  mysterious 
and  awful  i)rovidence,  to  deny  you  that  success  which  you 
hoped.  It  has  pleased  Heaven  tliat  you  should  be  so  disappoint- 
ed of  your  deserved  victory,  as  tliat  fools  should  say  you  have 
bled  in  vain. 

But  be  assured,  that  as  the  afflicted  cliild  is  ever  dearest  to 
the  mother's  heart,  your  disasters  only  cause  your  country  to 
l)ress  you  closer  to  her  bosjni.  Amid  her  cruel  losses,  her  chil- 
dren alone  remain  her  last,  as  lier  most  pierious  possession; 
and  it  is  only  from  their  eneri-ies.  their  virtues,  their  forritude 
under  obloquy  and  oppression,  that  she  hopes  f;)r  restoration. 
We  assuredly  believe,  young  gentlemen,  that  no  drop  of  blood, 
generously  shed  in  the  right,  ever  wets  our  mother  earth  in  vain. 

Tlu^  vision  of  tlie  harvest  from  this  preci  )us  seed  may  tar- 
ry, but  in  the  end  if  will  not  fail;  and  we  wait  for  it.  The  holy 
struggle  may  meet  with  seeming  overthrow.  lUit  if  our  im- 
mediate hope  is  denied,  amidst  ihe  manifold  alternatives  oi  Al- 
mighty Providence,  some  other  iei()mi)ense  is  provided,  which 
will  gladden  and  satisfy  the  hearts  >f  oui-  chihli-en.  if  not  ours, 
in  God's  own  time  and  place. 

Now  that  this  exi)ectation  may  net  fail,  it  is  mnnlful  that 
you  cherish  jealously,  the  virtues  ami  principles  which  ennoble 

1. (Jommeucement  Oration  before  the  students  of  Davidson  CoUcKe.  June,  1868. 

108 


TriK  DUTY  OF  THE  HOTJU.  lOO 

your  cause.  Your  steadfast  and  uudebauclied  liearts  uiusi  \w 
tlie  nurturluii'  soil  to  j)reserve  tlie  prfM-ious  seed  of  uiai'tyr  blood, 
durin*;'  tliis  winter  of  disaster,  tr»  the  appointed  summer  of  its 
resurrection.  The  ur<iency,  the  solemnity  of  this  seasou  of 
darkness  and  dan<;er.  warn  me  that  it  is  no  mere  literary  pas- 
time, but  a  hijj;h  and  serious  duty  which  should  occupy  this 
hour.  Pardon  me,  then,  for  passin«>-  to  a  topic  wliicli  is  fuuda- 
mental,  at  once  to  the  dearest  liopes,  of  your  country,  and  of  its 
dead  heroes.  I  would  employ  this  season  of  communion  with 
my  youug  fellow-citizens,  in  utterinjij  my  earnest  warning  to 
them,  of  a  danger  and  a  duty  arising  out  of  the  misfortunes  of 
our  country — a  danger  most  i)ortentous  to  a  thoughtful  mind, 
a  duty  ]>eculiarly  incumbent  on  educated  men. 

T/ii's  danger  may  be  expressed  by  the  fearful  force  of  con- 
quest and  despotism  to  degrade  the  spirit  of  the  victims.  The 
correlated  duty  is  that  of  anxiously  preserving  our  integrity 
and  self-respect.  A  grajihic  English  traveller  in  the  P^ast,  de- 
scribes the  contrast,  so  striking  to  us,  between'  the  cowering 
spirit  of  the  Orientals,  and  the  numly  independence  of  the  citi- 
zens 'O'f  fr-ee  States  in  Western  Europe.  These  have  been  raised 
in  commonwealtlis  wliicli  avouch  and  protect  the  rights  of  in- 
dividuals. They  are  accustomed  to  claim  their  chartered  lib- 
erties as  an  inviolable  heritage.  The  injuries  of  power  are  met 
by  them,  with  moral  indignation  and  the  high  purpose  of  re- 
sistance. 

J'ut  the  abject  Syrian  or  Copt  is  affected  no  otherwise  by 
Turkish  oppressions  tlian  by  the  incursions  of  nature's  resist- 
less forces:  the  whirlwind  or  the  thuiulerbolt. 

The  only  emotion  excited  is  that  of  passive  terror.  He  ac- 
cepts the  foulest  wrong  as  his  destiny,  and  almost  his  riglit.  He 
has  no  other  thought  than  to  crouch,  and  disarm  the  lash  by 
his  submissiveness.  And  if  any  sentiment  than  that  of  helpless 
panic,  is  excited,  it  is  rather  admiration  of  superior  power  than 
righteous  resentment  against  wrong.  He  who  is  the  most  ruth- 
less among  his  masters  is  in  his  abject  view  the  greatest. 

When  we  remember  the  ancestry  of  these  Orientals,  w^e  ask 
with  wonder  w^iat  has  wrought  this  change?  These  are  the 
children  of  those  P]gyptians  who  under  Sesostris,  pushed  their 
conquests  from  Thrace  to  furthest  Iml,  bt^youd  the  utmost 
march  of  Alexander  and  wlio,  under  the  Pharoahs,  so  i:)ng  cou- 


ilo 


THE  DtlTY  OF  THE  HO tjR. 


tested  the  empire  of  the  world  with  the  Assyrian.  Or  they  are 
the  descendants  of  the  conquering  Saracens,  who  in  hiter\ages 
made  all  Europe  tremble.  Or  these  Jews  who  now  kiss  the 
sword  that  slays  them  are  the  posterity  of  the  heroes  who,  un- 
der the  Macabees,  wrested  their  country  from  Antiochus, 
against  odds  even,  more  fearful  than  Southern  soldiers  were 
wont  to  breast.    Whence,  then,  the  change? 

The  answer  is,  this  mournful  degeneracy  is  the  result  of 
ages  of  despatism.  These  base  children  of  noble  sires  are  but 
living  examples  ol  the  rule,  that  not  only  the  agents,  but  the 
victims  of  unrighteous  oppression,  are  usually  degraded  by 
their  unavenged  wrongs:  a  law  which  our  times  renders  so  sig- 
nificant to  us. 

Illustrations  of  the  same  rule  also  may  be  found  in  the 
more  familiar  scenes  of  domestic  life.  Few  observing  men  can 
live  to  middle  life  without  witnessing  sad  instances  of  it.  We 
recall,  for  instance,  some  nuptial  scene,  from  the  distance  of  a 
score  of  years.  We  remember  how  the  bridegroom  led  his 
adored  prize  to  the  altar,  elate  with  proud  affection.  We  recall 
the  modest,  trembling  happiness  of  the  bride,  as  she  confi- 
dently pledged  away  her  heart,  her  all,  to  the  chosen  man  whom 
she  trusted  with  an  almost  religious  faith.  Her  step,  diflSdeut 
yet  proud,  the  proprieties  of  her  tasteful  dress,  her  spotless 
purity  of  person,  her  sparkling  eyes,  all  bespoke  self-respect, 
aspiration,  high  hope,  and  noble  love.  They  revealed  the 
thoughts  of  generous  devotion  with  which  her  gentle  breast 
was  filled. 

Had  one  whispered  at  that  hour,  that  the  trusted  man 
would  one  day  make  a  brutal  use  of  the  power  she  now  so  con- 
fidently gave,  she  would  have  resented  it  as  the  foulest  libel  on 
humanity.  Had  the  prophet  added,  that  she  was  destined  to 
submit,  tamely  and  basely,  to  such  brutality,  she  would  have 
repudiated  this  prediction  also  with  scorn  as  an  equal  libel  on 
herself.  But  we  pass  over  a  score  of  years.  We  find  the  same 
woman  sitting  in  an  untidy  cabin,  with  a  brood  of  squalid,  neg- 
lected children  around  her  knees;  her  shoulders  scantily  cov- 
ered with  tawdry  calico,  her  once  shining  hair  now  wound  like 
a  wisp  of  hay  into  a  foul  knot.  She  is  without  aspiration,  with- 
out hope,  without  self-respect,  almost  without  shame.  What  is 
the  explanation?     She  has  been  for  years  a  drunkard's  wife. 


TliE  bUtT   Oi'  TfiE  HOtJil.  Ill 

She  wa,s  wholly  innocent  of  her  husband's  fall.  Long  has  she 
endured  unprovoked  tyranny  and  abuse.  Not  seldom  has  she 
been  the  helpless  victim  of  blows  from  the  hand  which  was 
sworn  to  cherish  her.  Often  has  she  meditated  escape  fronj 
her  degrading  yoke;  but  the  unanswerable  plea  of  her  helpless 
children  arrested  her  always.  She  has  found  herself  tied  to  a 
bondage  where  there  was  neither  escape  or  resistance;  and 
these  wrongs,  this  misery,  has  at  last  crushed  her  down  into 
the  degraded  woman  we  see.  The  truthfulness  of  this  picture 
will  only  be  denied  by  those  who  judge  from  romance  without 
experience,  not  from  facts. 

We  need  only  to  look  a  little  at  the  operations  of  moral 
causes  on  man's  nature  to  find  the  solution  of  these  cases.  We 
are  creatures  of  imitation  and  habit.  Familiarit}'  with  any  ob- 
ject accustoms  us  to  its  lineaments.  The  effect  of  this  ac- 
quaintanceship to  reconcile  us  to  vice,  has  been  expressed  by 
Pope  in  words  too  trite  to  need  citation.  And  the  fact  that  one 
is  the  Injured  object  of  repeated  crimes  does  not  exempt  him 
from  this  law,  but,  as  will  be  shown,  only  subjects  him  the 
more  surely  to  it.  Not  only  is  every  act  of  oppression  a  crime, 
but  the  seasons  of  despotism  are  usually  eras  of  profuse  and 
outbreaking  crime.  The  baleful  shadow  of  the  t3'rant's  throne 
is  the  favorite  haunt  of  every  unclean  bird  and  beast.  And  if 
the  oppressing  power  be  the  many-headed  monster,  a  tyrant 
faction,  this  is  only  more  emphatically  true.  At  such  a  time  the 
moral  atmosphere  is  foul  with  evil  example.  The  vision  of 
conscience  is  darkened  and  warped.  The  very  air  is  unhealthy 
even  for  the  innocent  soul. 

For  the  common  mind  the  standard  of  rectitude  is  almost 
overthrown  In  the  guilty  confusion,  liut  this  is  the  considera- 
tion of  least  weight.  A  more  momentous  one  is  found  in  the 
law  of  man's  sensibilities.  The  natural  reflex  of  injury  or  as- 
sault upon  us  is  resentment.  This  instinctive  emotion  has  evi- 
dently been  designed  by  our  Creator,  as  the  protector  of  man 
in  this  world  of  injustice.  Its  function  is  to  energize  his  powers 
for  self  defense.  Uut  its  nature  is  active;  In  exertion  is  its  life. 
Closely  connected  with  this  is  the  sentiment  of  moral  disappro- 
bation for  the  wrong  character  of  the  act. 

This  emotion  is  the  necessary  correlative  to  approbation 
for   the   right:   so  that  the  former  cannot   be  blunted  without 


ll^  THE  DUTY  OF  THK  HOUR. 

ecjually  blunting  the  latter.  The  man  who  has  ceased  to  feel 
moral  indignation  for  wrong  has  ceased  to  feel  the  claims  of 
virtue.  Xor  is  there  a  valid  reason  for  your  insensibility  to 
evil,  in  the  fact  that  you  yourself  are  the  object  of  it. 

Now  when  a  man  is  made  the  helpless  rictim  of  frequent 
wrongs  when  his  misfortunes  allow  him  nothing  but  passive 
endurance,  resentment  and  moral  indignation  give  place  to  sim- 
l)le  fear.  And  this  by  two  sure  causes;  not  only  is  the  very 
power  of  sensibility  worn  away  h\  these  repeated  and  violent 
abrasions;  not  only  is  the  nature  dulled  by  the  perpetual  vio- 
lences to  which  it  is  subjected,  but  that  activity  being  denied, 
whicli  is  the  necessary  scope  of  these  sentiments  of  resistance, 
they  are  extinguished  in  their  birth.  The  soul  which  first  rose 
against  injustice  with  the  quick  and  keen  sense  of  wrong,  and 
heroic  self-defense;  at  last  loutaliztMl  by  its  very  injuries,  sub- 
sides into  dull  indifference  or  abject  ]»anic.  Should  it  not  make 
the  thoughtful  patriot  shudder  to  com])are  the  present  temi)er 
of  the  people  with  that  of  the  revolutionary  sires,  who  be- 
(juea tiled  to  us  the  liberties  we  have  forfeited?  \Mth  how 
quick  and  sensitive  a  jealousy,  with  what  generous  disdain  did 
they  spurn  at  the  imposition  of  a  tax  of  a  few^  pence,  against 
their  rights  as  Englishmen;  while  we  seek  to  reconcile  aunselves 
with  a  jest  or  sophism  to  wrongs  a  thousand  fold  as  onerous. 
In  the  words  of  IJurke,  ''In  other  countries  the  people  judge  of 
an  ill  principle  in  government  only  by  an  actual  grievance; 
here  they  anticipated  the  evil,  and  judged  of  the  pressure  of 
the  grievance  by  the  badness  of  the  principle.  They  augured 
miisgo  vera  men  t  at  a  distance,  and  snuffed  the  reproacli  of 
tyranny  in  every  tainted  breeze."  But  we.  their  miserable  chil- 
dren, are  compelled  to  inhabit  the  very  miasm  and  stench  of 
extreme  oppression,  until  oui-  tainted  nosti-ils  almost  refuse 
the  ■oflice,  and  leave  us  unconscious,  while  stiHed  by  the  pol- 
lution. 

We  need  not  go  so  far  to  find  this  startling  contrast;  we 
Juive  only  to  compare  our  present  selves  with  ourselves  a  few 
yt^ars  ago  to  find  fearful  illustrations  of  the  working  of  these 
influences.  Let  us  suppose  that  on  the  evening  of  July  21,  18(">1, 
I  had  stood  befoi'e  that  panting  citizen  soldiery,  which  had  just 
hurled  back  the  onset  of  our  gigantic  foe,  and  that  I  had  de- 
nounced to  them  that  seven  short  years  would  find  them  tamely 


tllE  DUTY  OF  TIIK  HOUR.  113 

acquiescing-  iu  rlie  unutterable  wrongs  since  heaped  upon  us: 
in  tlie  insolent  violation  of  every  belligerent  right,  in  the  sack 
of  their  homes,  in  the  insult  of  their  females,  in  the  treacherous 
arming  of  their  own  slaves,  in  their  subjection  to  them;  with 
what  anger  and  incredulity  would  they  not  have  repelled  me? 
Let  us  suppose  that  I  had  made  the  imputation  that  some  day 
they  would  consent  to  survive  such  infamy:  that  it  would  be 
possible  for  them  to  make  any  other  election  than  that  of 
death,  with  their  faces  to  the  foe,  rather  than  isuch  a  fate; 
would  they  not  have  declared  it  a  libel  upon  the  glories  of  that 
day,  and  upon  the  dead  heroes,  even  then  lying  with  their  faces 
to  the  sk}'?  But  we  have  consented  to  live  under  all  this,  and 
are  even  now  persuading  ourselves  to  submit  to  yet  more!  Do 
you  remember  that  unutterable  swelling  of  indignation  aroused 
in  us  by  the  first  rumor  of  outrage  to  Southern  women?  How 
that  you  felt  your  breasts  must  rend  with  anguish  unless  it 
were  solaced  by  some  deeds  of  defense  and  righteous  retribu- 
tion? But  we  have  since  had  so  illstarred  a  tuition  by  a  multi- 
tude of  more  monstrous  wrongs,  that  the  slavish  pulse  is  now 
scarcely  quickened  by  the  story  of  the  foulest  iniquities  heaped 
upon  a  defenseless  people.  Thus  does  our  own  melancholy  ex- 
perience verify  the  reasonings  given. 

But,  my  hearers,  this  deterioration  of  the  moral  sensibili- 
ties does  not  place  man  above  the  prouiptings  of  selfishness:  it 
rather  subjects  him  more  fully  to  them.  We  may  not  expect 
that  the  sense  of  helplessness  and  fear  will  reconcile  him  to 
suffer  with  passive  fortitude,  without  a  struggle.  As  well  might 
we  look  to  see  the  panting  stag  bear  the  bit  and  spur  with 
(piietude.  The  instinct  of  self-preservation  goads  the  oppressed 
to  attempt  some  evasion  from  their  miseries;  but  their  only  re- 
maining means  is  that  common  weapon  of  the  weak  against  the 
strong — artifice.  Every  down-trodden  people  is  impelled  al- 
most irresistibly  to  seek  escape  from  the  injustice  which  can  no 
longer  be  resisted  by  force,  th-rough  the  agency  of  concealments, 
of  duplicity,  of  lies,  of  perjuries.  The  government  of  the  op- 
pressor is  therefore  a  school  to  train  its  victims  in  all  the  aris 
of  chicanery  and  meanness.  Mark,  I  pray  you,  the  cruel  al- 
ternative to  which  it  shuts  them  u]).  They  must  suffer  with- 
out human  help  or  remedy,  evils  unrighteous,  relentless,  almost 
intolerable;  evils  which  outrage  at  once  their  well-being  and 


114  THE  DtJTY  OF  THE  HOUK. 

their  moral  sense;  or  they  must  yield  to  temptation  and  seek 
deceitful  methods  of  escape.  And  the  only  motives  to  move 
them  to  elect  suffering  rather  than  dishonor  are  the  power  of 
conscience,  the  fear  of  God,  and  faith  in  the  eventual  awards  of 
His  justice.  What  portion  of  any  people  may  be  expected  to 
persevere  in  this  passive  heroism  without  other  support? 

In  answering"  this  question  we  must  not  forget  the  inex- 
pressible seductiveness  and  plausibility  of  that  temptation.  It 
pleads  with  the  injured  victim  of  wrong,  that  his  oppressors 
had  no  moral  right  to  inflict  these  evils:  That  their  injustice 
and  treachery  forfeit  all  claim  upon  his  conscience:  That  to  de- 
ceive them  is  but  paying  them  as  they  desen'e  in  their  own 
coin.  An  embittered  hatred,  which  pleads  its  excuse  from  a 
thousand  unprovoked  injuries,  impels  the  sufferer  by  a  sting  as 
keen  as  living  fire,  to  seek  the  revenge  of  deception:  the  only 
one  in  his  reach.  And  last,  the  specious  maxim,  "That  neces- 
sity knows  no  law,"  completes  the  triumph  of  the  temptation 
with  the  plea,  that  the  endurance  of  this  tyrant's  unmitigated 
will  is  impossible,  and  therefore  the  case  justifies  the  means  of 
evasion. 

Xow  I  need  hardly  pause,  before  this  assembly,  to  say  that 
all  this  pretended  argument  is  a  guilty  sophism.  You  know  that, 
however  plausible  it  may  be,  it  is  grounded  in  a  profane  forget- 
fulness  of  God,  of  his  holy  will,  and  of  his  omnipotent  govern- 
ment over  oppressors  and  oppressed.  You  see  how  it  involves 
that  maxim  of  delusion,  of  whose  advocates  the  Apostle  de- 
clared "their  damnation  is  just";  that  the  end  sanctifies  the 
means.  At  the  day  when  God  shall  bring  him  into  judgment, 
no  man  will  dare  to  obtrude  these  specious  pleas,  for  his  viola- 
tion of  the  eternal  principles  of  truth  and  right— principles  on 
which  repose  the  w^elfare  of  all  creatures  and  the  honor  of  God, 
principles  whose  sanctity  only  finds  illustrations  in  the  very 
evils  which  man  experiences  from  their  breach.  But  none  the 
less  do  we  find  anticipations  of  seduction  verified  by  ten  thou- 
sand lamentable  lapses  from  honor  among  our  suffering  people: 
in  their  tampering  with  ensnaring  and  oppressive. oaths;  in  the 
evasion  of  pecuniary  obligations;  in  the  deceitful  avowal  of 
pretenses  abhorrent  at  once  to  the  political  pride  and  principles 
of  our  country.    The  facts  are  too  melancholy  to  be  pursued. 

Meantime  the  efficiency  of  all    these    seductions  is  made 


*HE  DUTY  OF  THE  HOUR.  1 15 

more  fearful  by  the  causes  wliicli  hedge  lour  young  men  uji  from 
wholesome  activities.  There  is  no  longer  a  career  for  their  in- 
dividual energies.  Scarcely  any  profession  offers  a  prize 
worthy  of  their  exertions.  If  they  turn  to  agriculture,  or  the 
pursuits  of  the  merchant  or  artisan,  the  ruin  of  trade  and  the 
crushing  burden  of  unequal  taxation  compel  them  to  labor  for 
a  pittance.  Hence  the  danger  tliat  they  will  succumb  to  an 
apathetic  despair.  We  see  too  many  of  our  youth  whose  forti- 
tude should  sustain  a  fainting,  sinking  country,  sitting  down  in 
skeptical  doubt  to  question  the  control  of  Divine  Providence,  or 
sinking  into  an  indolence  which  they  persuade  themselves  is 
inevitable,  and  seeking  a  degrading  solace  in  epicurean  ease. 
Take  heed,  gentlemen,  lest  these  insidious  discouragements 
transmute  the  sons  of  the  heroes  of  Manassas  and  Shiloh,  as  the 
despotism  of  arbitrary  rulers  has  charge,  into  the  modern  Rom- 
an. In  the  Eternal  city  we  see  the  descendants  of  that  race  which 
gave  laws  and  civilization  to  a  conquered  world,  now  in  tlie 
words  of  their  own  sensual  poet,  '^Porci  de  grege  Epicuti,  cute 
bene  curata^'^  filling  their  idleness  with  the  criticism  of  cooks 
and  singing  women.  Kather  than  risk  the  yielding  to  this,  arise 
and  go  forth,  sturdy  exiles,  to  carve  out  a  new  career  on  some 
more  propitious  soil. 

It  has  been  made  my  duty  by  my  appointed  pursuits  to  ex- 
amine the  history  of  previous  concpiesrs;  and  it  is  my  deliberate 
conviction  that  no  civilized  people  have  ever  been  subjected  to 
an  ordeal  of  oppression  so  charged  as  ours  with  all  the  elements 
of  degradation.  I  have  explained  how  the  unrighteousness  of 
the  despotism  becomes  a  pottmr  influence  for  temptation,  ^^'e 
experience  a  domination,  the  iniijuity  of  which  is  declared  by 
every  patriot  of  every  previous  i)arty,  and  constantly  avowed  by 
the  very  men  that  impose  it  uji  to  the  day.  when  their  reason 
was  swept  away  by  the  torrent  of  revenge  and  the  lust  of  dom- 
ination. Our  people  have  been  violently  thrust  down  from  the 
proudest  ancestral  tradiiions.  and  highest  freedom  boasted  by 
any  commonwealth  on  earlh,  to  the  deepest  humiliations  and 
most  grinding  exactions.  They  have  been  overpowered,  not  by 
manly  force,  but  by  filthy  lucre,  whicli  bribed  the  }»rolitaries  of 
the  whole  world  to  crush  us.  We  stooped  our  banners,  not  like 
the  conquered  Gaul  and  Briton  to  one  who  knew  how,  debellare 
uperbos,    forcere     victis;    but  to  a  rabble  w  ho  are  not  ashamed  to 


116  THE  DUTY  OF,THE  HOUli. 

confess  that  their  fourfold  numbers  and  tenfold  resources  were 
unable  to  subdue  us,  until  they  had  armed  against  us  all  the 
mercenaries  of  Europe  and  our  own  poor  slaves  besides.  And 
to  crown  all,  the  favorite  project  is  to  subject  us,  not  to  the  con- 
queror only,  but  to  these  alien  serfs,  to  be  invested  with  our 
plundered  franchises.  Thus  are  our  people  robbed  not  only  of 
their  possessions  and  rights,  but  of  their  dearest  point  of  honor. 
Now,  every  one  experienced  of  human  nature  knows  that  when 
you  break  down  the  chosen  point  of  honor,  the  man  is  degraded 
to  a  brute  unless  he  is  sustained  by  the  vital  grace  of  God.  Thus 
it  appears  that  the  influences  and  temptations  by  which  con- 
quest depraves  its  victims  are  now  applied  to  our  people  in 
their  most  malignant  efficacy.  The  lesson  which  we  should 
learn  from  this  fact  is  that  we  should  be  watchful  in  an  equal 
degree  to  preserve  our  own  rectitude  and  honor. 

For,  young  gentlemen,  as  the  true  dishonor  of  defeat  lies 
only  in  this  deterioration  of  spirit,  so  it  is  the  direst  wrong 
which  the  injustice  of  the  conqueror  can  inflict.  A  brave  people 
may,  for  a  time,  be  overpowered  b}'  brute  force,  and  be  neither 
dishonored  nor  destroyed.  Its  life  is  not  in  the  outward  organ- 
ization of  its  institutions.  It  may  be  stripped  of  these  and  clothe 
itself  in  some  diverse  garb,  in  which  it  may  resume  its  growth. 
But  if  the  spirit  of  independence  and  honor  be  lost  among  the 
people,  this  is  the  death  of  the  common  weal:  a  death  on  which 
there  waits  no  resurrection.  Dread,  then,  this  degradation  of 
spirit  as  worse  than  defeat,  than  subjugation,  than  poverty, 
than  hardship,  than  prison,  than  death. 

The  law  on  which  I  have  commented  has  ever  appeared  to 
me  the  most  awful  and  obscure  of  all  those  which  regulate  the 
divine  providence  over  men  and  nations.  That  the  ruthless 
wrong-doer  should  be  depraved  in  his  own  soul  by  his  crimes, 
that  he  should  find  a  part  of  his  just  penalty  in  the  disorders 
and  remorse  infused  in  his  own  nature  by  his  acts;  this  is  a  dis- 
pensation as  adorably  righteous  as  it  is  terrible.  But  that  not 
only  guilty  agent,  but  guiltless  victim  should,  by  a  law,  almost 
natural,  find  his  moral  being  broken  down;  that  a  necessity 
which  his  will  had  no  agency  in  procuring  should  subject  his 
heart  to  an  ordeal  so  usually  disastrous:— this  is  indeed  fearful. 
''Clouds  and  darkness"  here  surround  him.  Yet  "justice  and 
judgment  are  the  habitation  of  his  throne."    One  thing  I  cleariy 


THE  DUTY  OF  THE  HOUR.  117 

infer  hence,  that  he  has  ordained  the  virtuous  man's  life  in 
this  wiclced  world,  to  be  often  a  battle,  in  which  he  may  be 
called  "to  resist  unto  blood,  striving  against  sin."  We  learn 
from  these  mournful  histories  how  it  may  be  our  duty  to  sur- 
render life,  rather  than  conscience  and  moral  independence. 
Man's  first  duty  to  himself  is  the  preservation  of  his  own  vir- 
tue. His  prime  duty  to  his  God  may  be  said  to  be  the  same. 
For  how  shall  the  depraved  creature  fulfill  that  "chief  end," 
lilorifying  God?  With  no  little  seeming  then  was  it  argued  of 
old,  that  a  dishonored  life  was  no  life  indeed;  so  that  the  im- 
position of  unavoidable  degradation  of  soul  was  equivalent  to 
the  Maimer's  decree  dismissing  us  out  of  tlie  scene  of  defiled  ex- 
istence. Here  is  the  most  plausible  excuse  of  that  antique  self- 
sacrifice,  by  which  the  heroic  souls  of  the  Pagan  world  claimed 
the  privilege  of  escaping  subjugation,  and  defying  the  oppres- 
sor by  a  voluntary  grave.  For  they  knew  not  the  only  power  by 
which  the  inw^ard  stain  of  oppression  can  be  countervailed. 
They  had  never  heard  of  gospel  grace;  of  regeneration  and 
adoption;  of  a  hope  anchored  beyond  the  grave;  of  a  reward  in 
glory  ennobling  all  suffering  and  endurance  for  conscience  sake. 
Let  us  not,  however,  palliate  the  errar  of  those  who  thus  re 
tired  from  life's  battle  without  the  word  of  supreme  command 
of  the  Captain.  But  from  this  danger  of  the  soul's  subjugation 
along  with  that  of  the  body,  we  may  infer  the  duty  and  privi- 
lege of  preferring  the  surrender  of  life  ti  the  desertion  of  duty. 
It  is  yours,  young  gentlemen,  to  boast  among  the  alumni  of 
your  college,  more  than  one  illustrious  instance  of  this  fate, 
which  may  prove  so  enviable  compared  with  ours.  First  among 
these,  I  am  reminded  of  one,  whose  youthful  face,  then  ruddy 
as  that  of  the  hero  of  Bethlehem,  is  filed  in  the  memories  of  my 
first  visit  here.  General  Ramseur.  Nowhere,  in  the  rich  record 
of  Southern  chivalry,  can  there  be  found  the  name  of  one  who 
nu)re  deliberately  resolved  for  death  rather  than  forfeiture  of 
duty  and  honor.  Twice  within  a  few  weeks,  at  Winchester  and 
Fisher's  Hill,  his  command  had  yielded  to  numbers,  in  spite  of 
his  most  strenuous  and  daring  exertion.  On  the  morning  of 
the  battle  of  Belle  Plain,  which  began  so  gloriously  for  the  Con- 
federates, while  marshalling  his  troops  for  the  strife,  he  ex- 
horted them  to  stand  to  their  colors,  and  calmly  declared  that  if 
they  had  any  value  for  his  life  they  would  henceforward  be 


118  THE  DUTY  OF  THE  HOUR. 

staunch;  for  lie  was  resolved  never  to  participate  with  them  in 
another  flight  from  their  foes.  It  was  with  this  deliberate  pur- 
pose he  joined  battle.  But  as  the  bravest  are  ever  the  most 
gentle,  this  stern  resolve  did  not  exclude  the  thought  of  the  do- 
mestic tie,  which  his  country's  call  had  sundered  almost  as  soon 
as  it  was  bound  around  his  heart,  and  of  the  infant  which  had 
never  received  its  father's  kiss.  His  courage  was  only  rein- 
forced by  these  remembrances.  For.  as  he  began  the  onset,  in 
the  second  movement  of  the  tragedy,  he  exclaimed  to  the  offi- 
cers near  him,  "Now,  gentlemen,  let  us  sd  fight  to-day  as  to 
finish  this  campaign;  I  want  to  see  my  first  born."  After  per- 
forming his  whole  duty  during  the  changeful  day,  he  saw  all 
the  line  upon  his  left  giving  way.  AVith  his  own  command  he 
strove  to  stem  the  torrent  of  enemies;  and  when  they,  too,  broke 
in  panic  he  refused  to  tlee  with  them,  but  busied  himself  in 
rallying  a  few  determined  spirits  like  himself.  When  the  last 
fugitive  left  the  field  they  saw  him  with  a  handful,  breasting 
the  whole  jmrsuing  h  )st.  until,  according  to  his  pledge,  he  fell 
with  his  face  to  the  foe.  Let  this  example  inspire  you  to  endure 
as  he  fought,  and  you  will  be  secure  against  all  the  degradations 
of  defeat. 

This  degradation,  then,  does  not  necessarily  accompany 
our  prostrate  condition.  Divine  I'ravidence  often  makes  the 
furnace  of  persecution  the  place  of  cleansing  for  individual 
saints.  Why  may  it  not  be  so  for  a  Christian  people*?  Why 
may  not  a  race  of  men  come  forth  from  their  trials,  like  the  gold 
seven  times  refined  in  the  fire,  with  their  pride  chastened,  and 
yet  their  virtues  purified'?  This  can  be  from  the  only  cause 
which  sanctifies  the  sufferings  of  the  Christian,  the  inworkings 
of  the  grace  of  God.  Nothing  is  more  true  than  that  the  natural 
effect  of  mere  pain  is  not  to  purify,  but  tj  harden  the  sinful 
heart  of  man.  exasperating  at  once  its  evils  and  its  miseries. 
The  cleansing  Word  and  Spirit  of  God  alone  interpret  its  suf- 
ferings to  it  and  convert  them  into  healthful  medicines  of  its 
faults.  So  it  is  the  power  of  true  Christianity,  and  that  alone, 
which  can  minister  to  us  as  a  people  the  wholesome  uses  of  ad- 
versity. The  salvation  of  the  life  of  the  Southern  society  must 
be  found  by  taking  the  Word  of  God  as  our  constant  guide. 
But  it  may  be  asked:  To  what  course  of  action  should  this 
spirit  of  unyielding  integrity  prompt  us?     The  answer  from 


THE  DUTY  OF  THE  HOUR.  119 

those  infallible  oracles  is  easy.  While  you  refrain  from  the 
suggestion  of  revenge  and  dispair,  and  give  place  as  of  neces- 
sity to  inexorable  force,  resolve  to  abate  nothing,  to  concede 
nothing  of  righteous  conviction.  Truckle  to  no  falsehood  and 
conceal  no  true  principle;  but  ever  assert  the  right  with  such 
means  of  endurance,  iself-sacrifice  and  passive  fortitude  as  the 
dispensation  of  Providence  has  left  you.  If  wholesale  wrongs 
must  be  perpetrated,  if  wholesale  rights  must  be  trampled  on, 
let  our  assailants  do  the  whole  w^ork  and  incur  the  whole  guilt. 
Resolve  that  no  losses,  nor  threats,  nor  penalties,  shall  ever 
make  you  yield  one  jot  or  tittle  of  the  true  or  just  in  principle, 
or  submit  to  personal  dishonor.  And  let  us  remember,  young 
gentlemen,  that  while  events,  the  success  of  ruthless  power,  the 
overthrow  of  innocence  may  greatly  modify  the  expedient,  '^hey 
have  no  concern  whatever  in  determining  the  right.  The  death 
of  a  beloved  child  may  determine  its  mother  to  bury  its  decay- 
ing body  out  of  sight,  even  to  hide  in  the  wintry  earth  that 
which  before  she  cherished  in  her  bosom;  but  its  death  will 
never  make  the  true  mother  repudiate  its  relation  of  paternity 
to  it,  or  deny  its  memory,  or  to  acquiesce  in  any  slander  upon  its 
filial  loveliness.  You  must  decide,  then,  each  one  for  himself, 
what  things  must  be  conceded  to  the  necessities  of  new  events, 
and  what  things  must  be  disclaimed  as  contaminating  to  the  un- 
conquered  soul.  May  I  not  safely  advise,  that,  in  making  these 
decisions  you  should  always  refer  them  to  that  standard  of 
judgment  which  we  held  before  our  disasters,  as  the  truer  and 
worthier  one;  rather  than  to  that  standard  to  which  we  are 
seduced  by  their  humiliations?  Judge  then  from  the  same  prin- 
ciples (however  new  their  special  applications)  from  which  you 
would  have  judged  in  happier  years  when  your  souls  were  in- 
spired by  the  glorious  traditions  of  your  free  forefathers,  and 
saw  the  truth  in  the  clear  light  of  your  conscious  manhood;  not 
as  men  would  have  you  judge,  from  hearts  debauched  by  de- 
feat, and  clouded  with  shame  and  despair. 

We  are  a  beaten,  conquered  people,  gentlemen,  and  yet  if 
we  are  true  to  ourselves,  we  have  no  cause  for  humiliation, 
however  much  for  deep  sorrow.  It  is  only  the  atheist  who 
adopts  success  as  the  criterion  of  right.  It  is  not  a  new  thing 
In  the  history  of  men  that  God  appoints  to  the  brave  and  true 
the  stern  task  of  contending  and  falling  in  a  righteous  quarrel. 


120  THE  DUTY  OF  THE  HOUR. 

Would  you  find  the  grandest  of  all  nanie.s  upon  the  roll  of  time? 
You  must  seek  them  among  this  "noble  arm}-  of  mai't3'rs/' 
whose  faith  in  God  and  the  right  was  stronger  than  death  and 
defeat.  Let  the  besotted  foals  saj  that  our  dead  have  fallen  in 
a  ''lost  cause."  Let  abandoned  defamers  and  pulpit  buffoons 
sjay  that  theirs  are  "dishonored  graves."  I  see  them  lie  in  their 
glor\-  with  an  illustrious  eomfjany:  with  the  magnanimous 
Prince  Jonathan,  on  Mount  Gilboa.  and  the  good  king  Josiah 
in  the  vale  of  Megiddo;  with  Demo.stheues  and  Philopoemen; 
with  Hannibal,  the  pillar  of  Carthage;  with  Brutus  and  Cato; 
with  the  British  Queen,  Boadicea;  with  the  Teuton  Herman; 
with  Harold,  the  Saxon,  on  Hastings  field;  with  Wallace,  with 
Kosciusko;  with  one  grander  than  all,  our  own  Jackson.  We 
have  no  need,  sirs,  to  be  ashamed  of  our  dead;  let  us  see  to  it 
that  they  be  not  ashamed  of  us.  They  have  won  the  happier 
fate,  ''taken  away  from  the  evil  to  come,  they  have  entered  into 
peace;  they  rest  in  their  beds,  each  one  walking  in  their  up- 
rightness." To  us  they  have  bequeathed  the  sterner  trial  of  as- 
serting, by  our  unshaken  fortitude  under  overthrow,  the  princi- 
ples which  they  baptized  with  their  blood.  I^t  the  same  .spirit 
which  nerved  them  to  do.  nerve  us  to  endure  for  the  right;  and 
they  will  not  disdain  our  companionship  on  the  rolls  of  fame. 
Before  I  end,  let  me  invoke  the  aid  of  the  gentler  sex,  whose 
sympathizing  presence  I  see  gracing  our  solemnities.  The  high 
mission  of  woman  in  society  has  been  often  and  justly  argued. 
But  never  before  was  the  welfare  of  a  people  so  dependent  on 
their  mothers,  wives  and  sisters,  as  now  and  here.  I  freely  de- 
clare that  under  God  my  chief  hope  for  my  prostrate  country  is 
in  their  women.  Early  in  the  war,  when  the  stream  of  our 
noblest  blood  began  to  flow  so  liberally  in  battle,  I  said  to  an 
honored  citizen  of  my  State,  that  it  was  so  uniformly  our  best 
men  wha  were  made  the  sacrifice  there  was  reason  to  fear  that 
the  staple  and  pith  of  the  people  of  the  South  would  be  per- 
manently depreciated.  His  reply  was:  "There  is  no  danger  of 
this  while  the  women  of  the  South  are  what  they  are.  Be  as- 
sured the  mothers  will  not  permit  the  oftspring  of  such  martyr- 
sires  to  depreciate." 

But  since,  this  river  of  generous  blood,  has  swelled  into  a 
flood.  What  is  worse,  the  remnant  of  the  survivors,  few,  sub- 
jugated, disheartened,  almost  despairing  and,  alas,  dishonored, 


THE  DUTY  OF  THE  HOUR.  121 

because  the.v  have  uot  disdained  life,  uu  such  terms  as  are  left 
us;  are  subjected  to  every  influeuce  from  without,  whicli  cau  be 
maliiiuantly  devised  to  sap  the  fouudatijns  of  their  manhood 
and  degrade  them  into  fit  materials  for  slaves.  If  our  women 
do  not  sustain  them  they  will  sink.  Unless  the  spirits  which 
rule  and  cheer  their  homes  can  reanimate  their  self-respect,  con- 
firm their  resolve,  and  sustain  their  personal  honor,  they  will 
at  length  become  the  base  serfs  their  enemies  desire.  Outside 
thcnr  homes,  everything  conspires  to  depress,  to  tempt,  to  seduce 
them.  Do  they  advert  to  their  business  affairs?  They  see  be- 
fore them  only  loss,  embarrassment,  and  prospective  destitu- 
tion. To  the  p9litics  of  their  country?  They  witness  a  scheme 
of  domination  and  mercenary  subserviency  where  the  sacrifice 
'of  honor  is  the  uniform  condition  of  success.  Only  within  their 
homes  is  there,  beneath  the  skies,  one  ray  of  light  or  warmth 
to  prevent  their  freezing  into  despair. 

TJiere,  in  your  homes,  is  your  domain.  There  y^?^  rule  with 
the  sceptre  of  affection,  and  not  our  conquerors.  We  beseech 
you,  wield  that  gentle  empire  in  behalf  of  the  principles,  the 
patriotism,  the  religion,  which  we  inherited  from  our  mothers. 
Teach  our  ruder  sex  that  only  by  a  deathless  love  to  these  can 
woman's  dear  love  be  deserved  or  won.  Him  who  is  true  to 
these  crown  with  your  favor.  Let  the  wretch  who  betrays  them 
be  exiled  forever  from  the  paradi.se  of  your  arms.  Then  shall 
we  be  saved,  saved  from  a  degradation  fouler  than  the  grave. 
Tie  it  yours  to  nurse  witli  more  than  a  vestal's  watchfulness,  the 
sacred  flame  of  our  virtue  now  sj  smothered.  Your  task  is  un- 
obtrusive; it  is  fperformed  in  the  privacy  of  home,  and  by  the 
gentle  touches  of  daily  love.  But  it  is  the  noblest  work  which 
mortal  can  perform,  for  it  furnishes  the  polished  stanes,  with 
which  the  temple  of  our  liberties  must  be  repaired.  We  have 
seen  men  building  a  lofty  pile  of  sculptured  marble,  where 
columns  with  polished  shafts  pointed  to  the  skies,  and  domes 
reared  their  arches  on  high,  like  mimic  heavens.  They  swung 
tlu^  massive  blocks  into  their  places  on  the  walls  with  cranes 
and  cables,  with  shout  and  outcries,  and  hugh  creaking  of  the 
ponderous  machinery.  But  these  were  not  the  true  artisans: 
they  were  but  rude  laborers.  Tlie  true  artists,  whose  priceless 
cunning  was  to  give  immortal  beauty  to  the  pile,  and  teach  the 
dead  stones  to  breathe  majesty  and  grace  were  uot  there.    None 


122  THE  DUTY  OF  THE  HOUR. 

saw  or  heard  their  hibors.  In  distant  and  cjniet  workrotnns, 
where  no  eye  watclied  them,  and  no  sliout  jiavo  ,sij;nal  of  tlieii' 
motions,  they  plied  their  patient  cliisels  ishiwly  with  genth^ 
touches,  evoking-  the  forms  of  beauty  which  hiy  liid  in  the  blocks 
before  them.  Such  is  your  work;  the  home  and  fireside  are  the 
scenes  of  your  industry.  But  the  materials  which  you  shape  are 
the  souls  of  men,  which  are  to  compose  the  fabric  of  our  church 
and  state.  The  jiolitician,  the  professional  man,  is  but  the 
cheap,  rude,  day  laborer,  who  moves  and  lifts  the  finislied  block 
to  its  place.  You  are  the  true  artists,  who  endue  it  with  fitness 
and  beauty;  and  therefore  vours  is  the  nobler  task. 


THE  UNITED  STATES  AS  A  MILITARY  NATION' 

\vt'.  VI. — 1.  Preliminary  Report  on  the  Eigth  Census,  1800. 
By  Jos.  C  G.  Kennedy,  Superintendent.  Washington: 
Government  Printing  Ottice.     1862. 

2.  Message  from  the  President  of  the  United  States  to  the  two 
Houses  ff  Congress,  at  the  ("oniniencement  of  the  Second 
Session  of  tlie  Thirty-eighth  Congress;  with  tlie  Reports 
of  the  Heads  of  Departments,  and  Selections  from  accom- 
panying Documents.  Washington:  Government  Printing 
Office.    1864. 

The  ability  of  a  people  for  military  exploits  depends,  in 
modern  times,  upon  two  classes  of  circumstances,  the  material 
aud  the  moral.  Among  the  former,  the  most  important  are,  the 
numbers  of  its  poi)ulation,  the  magnitude  of  its  revenues,  its 
manufactures,  commerce,  and  agriculture,  and  its  geographical 
position.  The  moral  qualities  which  make  a  military  nation 
are,  natural  bravery,  love  of  glory,  intelligence,  independence, 
fortitude,  and,  above  all,  virtue  and  devout  religious  faith. 

The  authors  and  ])oliticiau;s  of  the  North  usually  point, 
with  much  exultation,  to  the  war  against  the  Confederate 
States,  which  closed  in  1865,  as  a  splendid  proof  of  their  mili- 
tary prowess.  Since  that  triumph,  it  has  been  customary  with 
them  to  claim  that  the  Ignited  States  stand  in  the  first  rank,  if 
not  at  the  head  of  the  great  military  powers  of  Christendom; 
and  that  they  may  safely  venture  to  cope  with  the  greatest  of 
those  powers.  That  war  is  su])posed  to  prove  that  the  TTnited 
States  are  able,  with  ease,  to  place  a  million  of  combatants  in 
the  field,  and  a  jtowerful  navy  upon  tlie  water,  for  any  contest 
which  affects  the  national  heart.  We  propose  to  bnng  this 
boast  to  the  test,  by  a  review  of  some  facts  and  figures,  touch- 
ing th(-  jtarties  to  the  recent  Avar.  We  hope  thus  to  reach  a 
correct  estimate  of  the  real  material  resources  of  the  United 
States  for  a  great  war,  at  this  time,  and  of  the  aptitude  which 

1 Appearefl  in  Southern  Review.  Baltimore.  Oct,  1869 

133 


124  THE  UNITED   STATES  AS  A  MILITARY  NATION. 

the  Northern  people  have  disclosed  for  iiiilitarv  enterprises. 

The  first  fousideration  is  obviously  a  comparisan  of  the 
population  and  prL>duetion  of  the  two  parties  tp  the  late  con- 
test. According  to  the  census  of  1800  (the  year  before  the  con- 
test began),  as  prepared  by  the  North  itself,  the  Northern  States 
and  territories  had  then  a  population  of  twenty-two  million 
eight  hundred  and  seventj'-seven  thousand  (22,877,000).  This 
aggregate  includes  a  few  hundreds  of  thousands  of  negroes,  but 
none  of  the  Indian  tribes.  The  Confederate  States  had  a  pop- 
ulation of  eight  million  seven  hundred  and  thirty-three  thou- 
sand (8,733,000).  But  of  these,  three  million  six  hundred  and 
sixty-four  thousand  (3,064,000)  were  negroes;  so  that  if  they 
are  deducted,  we  have  only  five  million  (5,000,000)  whites  to 
sustain  the  struggle  against  twenty-two  million,  (22,000,000). 
Northern  politicians  are  bound  to  admit  the  fairness  of  at  least 
such  a  deduction;  because  they  uniformly  say  that  slavery  is  a 
weakening  institution,  inimical  to  national  strength.  We,  in- 
deed always  argued  (wliat  this  war  abundantly  confirmed)  that 
a  slave-holding  nation  was  stronger  for  war  than  a  hired-labor 
State,  of  numbers  ecjual  to  the  free  and  slave  together;  because 
the  devotion  of  the  bondmen  to  productive  laboi-  both  released 
a  large  number  of  freemen  for  military  employments,  and  gave 
them  a  higher  tone.  But  the  Northern  statesman  cannot  use 
this  plea;  because  he  has  always  denied  these  facts,  and  assert- 
ed the  contrary.  He  is  therefore  obliged  to  count  out  the 
Southern  slaves,  and  to  compare  the  belligerents  as  five  mil- 
lion (5,000,000)  against  twenty-two  million  (22,000,000).  He  is 
obliged,  also,  to  estimate  these  five  million  (5,000,000)  as  a  peo- 
ple far  inferior  to  the  rest  of  Christendom,  in  their  morale;  for 
has  he  not  proved  to  his  own  satisfaction,  in  his  descants  on  the 
'barbarism  of  slavei-y,'  that  this  institution  invariably  renders 
the  masters  lazy,  effeminate,  selfish,  petulant,  and  insubordin- 
ate? The  case  which  we  have  to  inspect  is,  therefore,  for  the 
North,  this:  that  twenty  two  millions  (22,000,000)  ot  tlie  best 
people  in  Christendom  managed  souuliow  to  beat  five  millions 
(5,000,000)  of  the  meanest. 

In  this  estimate  of  numbers,  we  have  not  counted  Kentucky 
or  Missouri  as  Confederate  States.  Both  parties  claimed  them; 
the  North  actually  possessed  them,  during  the  whole  war,  with 
their  territories,  resources,  and  population.     A  few  thousand 


THE  UNITED  STATES  AS  A  MILITARY   NATION.  1  SK 

from  each  State  preferred  exile  to  subjugation,  and  enlisted  in 
the  Confederate  armies.  These,  with  the  recruits  from  Mary- 
land, were  far  more  than  counterbalanced  by  the  large  defec- 
tions from  the  Confederate  cause  in  East  Tennessee,  Northern 
Arkansas,  Western  Xortli  Carolina,  and  Northwestern  Vir- 
ginia. 

But  we  have  not  yet  reached  the  fair  comparison  of  mater- 
ial strength.  The  campaigns  of  18()1  w^re  only  tenative;  the 
real  *'tug  of  war"  had  not  yet  come.  But  before  May,  1862,  the 
Northern  armies  were  in  permanent  occupancy  of  all  Western 
and  Middle  Tennessee,  of  nearly  the  whole  of  Louisiana,  of 
parts  of  Florida,  of  the  coast  of  South  and  North  Carolina,  of 
Eastern  and  Northern  Virginia.  This  occupation  continued 
until  the  end  of  the  war.  The  population  thus  excluded  from 
the  support  of  the  Confederate  cause  cannot  be  exactly  esti- 
mated; but  it  was  certainly  more  than  twelve  hundred  thou 
sand  (1,200,000).  Thus  the  Confederates  bore  all  the  real 
brunt  of  the  struggle,  with  three  million  eight  hundred  thou- 
sand (3,800,000)  white  people.  The  fighting  men  were  not  ab- 
solutely limited  to  this  source,  for  some  of  them  came  from 
within  the  hostile  lines;  but,  of  course,  no  material  resources, 
and  few  men,  could  be  relied  on  from  a  territory  in  the  perma- 
nent occupancy  of  the  enemy.  The  real  problem  which  was 
solved,  then,  was.  how  twenty-two  million  (22,000,00(0  of  the 
best  people  in  Christendom  managed,  in  three  years,  to  beat 
three  million  eight  hundred  thousand  (3,800,0(H))  of  the  mean- 
est. 

But  the  material  resources  were  even  more  unequal  than 
the  numbers.  The  Confederate  States  were  rather  planting 
than  agricultural  communities;  their  customary  industry  pro- 
duced rather  those  things  which  are  the  basis  of  Northern  com- 
merce, than  the  wheat,  the  beef,  the  wool,  the  horses,  which 
sustain  large  armies.  The  North  had  far  the  larger  portion  of 
the  commerce  and  manufacturing  arts.  It  retained  the  nation- 
al army,  navy,  arsenals,  treasury,  government.  The  South  had 
all  these  to  create,  in  the  progress  of  the  struggle. 

But,  secondly,  it  is  pleaded  that  a  people  inhabiting  a  large 
country,  have,  in  their  forests,  i-ivers,  mountains,  and  especially 
in  the  distances  which  armies  must  pass  over,  a  defense  against 
the  invader,  which   almost   compensates   for  any  inferi  uity  of 


12G  THE   UNITP.D  STATES  AS  A  MILITARY  NATlO^t. 

force.  This  argumeDt  was  not  true,  iu  the  case  of  the  Confed- 
erate people.  Xew  circuDistances,  with  their  geographical 
position,  wholly  neutralized  these  advantages.  Of  these,  one 
was  the  advantage  which  th'e  invader  had  of  railroads;  by  which 
he  almost  annihilated  distance,  and  overcame  weight  and  bulk, 
in  transporting  the  materiel  of  war.  The  Confederate  States 
were  sufiflciently  supplied  with  railroads  for  all  the  military 
purposes  of  the  invader.  Ketreating  armies  usually  attempted, 
of  course,  to  dismantle  these  roads;  but  the  repair  of  any  dam- 
age thus  hastily  done,  was  eas}'  and  quick  work  to  a  numerous 
people,  abounding  in  industrious  mechanics,  and  iu  machinery 
and  materials.  Thus,  as  an  invading  army  was  enabled  by  its 
military  successes  to  advance,  the  captured  raih'Dads  in  its  rear, 
•quickly  repaired,  and  easily  defended,  brought  its  base  of  ope- 
rations i^ractically  up  to  its  rear.  It  was,  thus,  relieved  of  this, 
formerh',  the  great  difficult}'  of  extended  invasion. 

The  decisive  circumstance  which  robbed  the  South  of  the 
defensive  advantages  of  its  wide  territory  was,  the  superiority 
of  its  enemies  up3n  the  water.  The  North  retained  the  use  of 
the  whole  national  navy.  While  the  South  was  chiefly  a  plant- 
ing community,  the  North  was  manufacturing  and  maritime. 
Hence  the  multiplication  of  ships  and  sailors,  which  continued 
and  increased  her  naval  superiority,  was  easy  and  rapid  for  her. 
This  cause  also  enabled  her,  by  her  blockade,  to  exclude  the 
Confederates  from  all  f jreign  sources  of  supply.  The  naviga- 
ble water  was  therefore,  all,  the  territory  of  the  North.  The 
ocean  and  the  gulf,  which  bounded  two  sides  of  the  Con- 
federate States,  belonged  to  their  invaders,  furnishing  them  a 
cheap  and  swift  way  of  approach,  secure  from  assault.  This 
fact  rendered  the  whole  sea  and  gulf  shores  bases  of  opera- 
tions for  Federal  armies.  It  made  all  an  exposed  frontier,  and 
brought  the  enemy  upon  it  all,  as  though  he  had  embraced 
these  two  sides,  as  he  did  the  other  two,  with  conterminous 
territodes  of  his  own.  The  reader  may  represent  to  himself 
the  significance  Df  this  fact,  by  imagining  the  inland  kingdom 
of  Bavaria  assailed  at  once  on  four  sides,  by  Austria,  Switzer- 
land, and  the  German  States,  all  united  under  a  single  will. 
The  professional  soldier  will  comprehend  the  disastrous  position 
of  the  invaded  country,  wlien  he  considers  that  the  invader 
thus  had  two  pairs   of   bases   of  operations,  at  right  angles  to 


tHE  UNITED  STATES    AS  A  MILITARY  NATION.  \'>7 

each  other;  whence  it  resulted  that  from  whatever  interior 
base  a  Confederate  arniv  might  set  out  to  defend  its  frontier, 
its  line  of  operations  must  needs  be  exposed,  paralh'l  to  one  of 
these  Federal  bases,  and  liable  to  be  struck  at  right  angles,  by 
a  force  advancing  from  it. 

But,  worse  than  this,  the  Confederate  territories  were  pene- 
trated, in  nearly  every  part,  by  navigable  rivers,  opening  either 
into  the  sea,  which  was  the  territory  of  the  North,  or  into  the 
Northern  frontier.  On  the  east,  the  Potomac,  the  Rappahan- 
nock, the  York,  the  James,  the  Roanoke,  the  Neuse,  the  Cape 
Fear,  the  Savannah,  and  on  the  south,  the  St.  John's,  the  Ala- 
bama, the  Brazos,  stretched  their  navigable  waters  far  into  the 
interior;  while  the  Mississippi,  which  is  itself  an  inland  sea, 
floating  the  greatest  war-ships,  jjassed  out  oi  the  United  States 
below  Cairo,  through  the  midst  of  the  Confederacy,  to  the  Gulf, 
which,  again,  belonged  to  its  enemies.  The  Tennessee  and  the 
Cumberland,  with  their  mouths  opening  upon  the  Northern 
frontier,  in  winter  navigable  for  warships,  as  well  as  trans- 
ports, curved  inwards,  near  the  heart  of  the  Eastern  quarter. 
The  Arkansas  and  Red  rivers  opened  the  States  west  of  the  Mis- 
sissippi. The  difficulties  of  invasion  were  also  unexpectedly  re- 
moved, for  the  North,  by  the  new  decision  given  to  the  ques- 
tion, whether  shore-batteries  could  command  a  channel  against 
ships  of  war.  Military  authorities  had  usually  answered  this 
question  in  the  affirmative.  The  answer  was  now  reversed  in 
favor  of  the  North.  When  ships  were  only  of  wood,  and  pro- 
pelled only  by  winds,  a  motive  power  gentle  (except  when  it  as- 
sumes the  unmanageable  violence  of  the  tempest),  variable,  and 
uncertain,  artillerists  might  well  boast  that  shore-batteries 
would  usually  destroy  the  ships  opposed  to  them.  But  when 
the  ship  has  within  itself  an  unfailing  motive  power,  as  steady 
as  the  breeze  and  as  swift  as  the  tempest,  and  when  it  is  coated 
with  an  iron  plating,  which,  if  not  absolutely  impervious  to 
cannon-shots,  at  least  delays  for  a  long  time  the  ruin  of  the 
frainework,  all  is  changed;  it  may  expect  to  brave  the  bullets 
of  shore-batteries  with  impunity,  and  to  pass  them  without  the 
rroi:bl.  of  silencing  them.  Thus,  the  forts  designed  to  proteci 
New  Orleans,  Mein]»his,  and  Vicksburg,  were,  in  each  case, 
passed  by  the  Federal  steamers  without  being  reduced;  and 
that  which  thev  were  designed  to  defend  was  seized  in  spite  of 


128  THE  UNITED  STATES  ASA    MILITARY  NATION. 

them;  so  that  rlieir  leteution  became  useless  or  impracticable. 

Xow  the  naval  supremacy  of  the  North  having  been  assert- 
ed upon  all  these  streams,  it  was  the  least  part  of  the  evil,  that 
all  their  fertile  valle3's  were  exj)osed  to  ravage,  and  the  wealthy 
cities  on  their  Banks,  to  capture.  Each  of  the  rivers  became  a 
new  and  secure  base  of  operations  for  invading  armies.  Diffi- 
culties of  distance  were  almost  annihilated.  Xo  interior  base 
from  which  C3nfederate  armies  could  operate  toward  their  own 
frontiers,  to  extrude  the  invader,  remained  secure  from  attack 
from  one  or  another  of  these  rivers.  Hence  it  was,  that  defen- 
sive victories  were  usually  fruitless  of  permanent  results. 

The  justice  of  this  view  is  sustained  by  the  fact  that  all  the 
rivers  7vere  opened  to  the  ingress  of  Northern  armies  and  fleets 
(save  a  small  portion  of  the  Mississippi  between  Vick^burg  and 
Port  Hudson)  without  much  difficulty,  and  before  the  real 
"tug  of  war"  began.  By  May,  1862,  they  were  all  occupied; 
and  the  illusory  advantages  of  territory  and  distance  for  the 
invaded,  were  all  lost.  The  extent  of  the  Confederate  territory 
no  longer  interposed  an}'  difficulty  to  the  invaders,  except  the 
demand  for  a  plenty  of  money  and  mechanics. 

The  M/r^subject  of  comparison  is,  obviously,  the  size  of  the 
armaments  which  the  rivals  were  able  to  put  into  the  field.  To 
appreciate  the  amazing  disproportion,  the  reader  must  ponder 
a  few  figures.  According  to  the  report  of  the  Adjutant  General 
of  the  United  States,  two  million  five  hundred  and  thirty  thou- 
sand (2,530,000)  soldiers  were  employed  by  laud,  during  the 
course  of  the  war.  The  whole  population  of  the  North  subject 
to  military  duty,  but  not  in  service,  had  also  been  enrolled,  and 
the  number  was  found  to  be  two  million  seven  hundred  and 
eighty-four  thousand  (2,784,000).  These  facts  reveal  the  curious 
result  (of  which  use  will  be  made  hereafter),  that,  had  no  for- 
eigners been  employed  in  their  armies,  the  North  would  have 
had,  on  land,  neariy  half  (2,530,000  against  2,784,000)  of  their 
whole  male  population  of  military  age,  actually  under  arms. 
But  the  actual  strength  of  their  armies,  at  the  close  of  the  war, 
is  very  accurately  fixed  by  the  returns  of  volunteers  mustered 
out  of  service.  These  were  one  million  thirty-four  thousand 
(1,034,000).  So  that,  adding  the  regular  army,  we  find  that 
they  employed,  at  one  time,  one  million  seventy-two  thousand 
five  hundred  (1,072,500)  combatants,  on  laud,  ''to    crush    the 


THE  UNITED  STATES  AS  A  MILITARY   NATION.  129 

ivlK'llion.'"  Tims,  something-  more  than  one  doughty  warrior  to 
every  four  white  Confederate  souls  (including  all  the  soldiers, 
:ild  men,  sick,  women,  children,  babies,  and  cowards),  and  at 
least  one  fighting  man  to  every  two  Confederate  souls  adhering 
in  any  sense  to  that  government  during  the  whole  of  the  last 
year  of  the  war,  were  required  to  conquer  their  resistance! 
This  vast  host  was  served  by  one  horse  or  mule  fur  every  two 
men  in  the  field;  and  it  destroyed  draught  animals  at  the  aver- 
age rate  of  five  hundred  (50())  per  day.  It  was  ministered  to 
by  one  thousand  and  eighty  (1,080)  sea  and  river  transports, 
at  a  daily  cost  of  one  hundred  and  twenty  thousand  dollars 
(1120,000)  for  their  navigation  alone.  It  was  furnished  during 
rhe  war  with  nearly  eight  thousand  (8,000)  cannons,  and  nearly 
twelve  millions  (12,000,000)  of  small  arms;  while  the  masses  of 
cartridges,  shot,  shell,  and  gunpowder  were  fabulous. 

To  the  efforts  of  this  Xerxean  ho.^t  must  be  added  those  of 
the  navy  of  the  United  States.  This  arm  employed,  in  the 
course  of  the  war,  one  hundred  and  twenty-six  thousand  five 
hundred  and  fifty-three  (12(),55;i)  sailors  and  marines;  besides 
the  countless  mechanics  and  servants  about  the  naval  arsenals 
and  depots.  T'he  Report  of  the  Secretary,  under  date  of  Decem- 
ber 5,  1864,  gives  the  following  "General  exhibit  of  the  navy, 
including  vessels  under  constructian,"  to-wit: 
No.  (luns.        Tons. 

118  Screw  steamers  especially  constructed  for 

naval  purposes 1,120     1(59,231 

52  Paddle-wheel  steamers  es'i>ecially  construct- 
ed for  naval  purposes 521       51,878 

71  Iron-clad  vessels 275       80,596 

119  Screw  steamers,  purchased,  captured,  etc., 

fitted  for  naval  purposes 611  60,380 

171  Paddle-wheel  steamers,   purchased,   captui-- 

ed,  etc.,  fitted  for  naval  purposes 921  78,762 

112  Sailing  vessels  of  all  classes 850  69,549 

671  Total 4,()10     510,396 

588  T  )tal  navy,  December,  18(13 4,443     4(57.967 


83  Actual  increase  for  the  year 167       42,429 

Now  against  these,  place  the  following  numbers  of  the  Con- 


130  THE  UNITKD  STATES  AS  A  MILITARY    NAtIoN. 

federate  armies.  The  aggregate  of  all  the  levies  made  during 
the  whole  war.  was  about  equal  to  the  available  force  present 
for  duty  at  one  time  with  their  enemies;  that  is;  to  say,  about 
six  hundred  and  sixty  thousand  (660,000),  or  one-fourth  the 
whole  number  enlisted  by  the  North  during  the  war.  If  we 
estimated  the  Confederate  force  effective  for  duty  at  any  one 
time  by  this  ratio  we  ishould  give  them  less  than  one  hundred 
and  twenty-five  thousand  (125,000)  soldiers  in  actual  service, 
the  day  their  armies  were  strongest.  When  we  remember  that 
many  of  their  levies  were  from  districts  soon  occupied  perma- 
nently by  their  enemies,  to  which  therefore  no  provost-marshal 
could  ever  go  to  reclaim  absentees,  we  might  reasonably  con- 
clude that  the  number  of  Confederates  actually  in  the  field  at 
any  one  time  bore  a  still  smaller  ratio  to  the  total  of  levies. 
But  the  superiority  of  the  Confederate  administration,  with 
the  higher  patriotism  of  the  people,  wonderfully  couutei-poised 
this  disadvantage,  and  enabled  the  government  to  present,  in 
May,  1864,  about  two  hundred  and  sixty-four  thousand 
(264,000)  combatants  to  Mr.  Lincoln's  nine  hundred  and  sev- 
enty thousand  (1)70,000),  the  number  he  had  under  arms  at  that 
time.  But  it  was  impossible  for  the  Confederacy  to  mobilize, 
for  campaigning,  as  large  a  ratio  as  their  enemy  did.  They  had 
the  same  length  of  frontier  to  guard;  they  were  therefore  com- 
pelled to  reserve  for  garrisons  and  posts  a  far  larger  part  rela- 
tively to  their  whole  force.  Hence,  while  General  Grant,  as 
commander-in-chief,  was  able  to  put  in  the  field,  for  aggressive 
purposes,  six  hundred  and  twenty  thousand  (620,000)  men  in 
May,  1864,  Mr.  Davis  opposed  him  with  about  one  hundred  and 
twenty-five  thousand  (125,000)  in  the  several  active  armies. 

The  disproportion  of  forces,  and  the  relative  character  of 
the  rival  armies,  may  also  be  illustrated  by  the  numbers  actually 
arraj'ed  against  each  other  in  several  battles.  At  the  critical 
turn  of  the  first  battle  of  Manassas,  the  official  reports  of  Gen- 
erals McDowell  and  Beauregard  show  that  the  decisive  grapple 
for  the  key  of  the  battle-field  was  made  by  six  thousand  five 
hundred  (6,500)  Confederates  against  twenty  thousand  (20,000) 
United  States  troops,  including  several  regiments  of  regulars. 
The  Confederates  won  it.  At  Sharpsburg,  thirty-three  thousand 
(33,000)  Confederates  repulsed  ninety  thousand  (1)0,000)  Federal- 
ists.    At  Chancellorsville,  thirty-five  thousand  (35,000)  Confed- 


THE  UNITED  STATS'^  AS  A    MILITARY  XATIO>r.  131 

erates  beat  Gen.  Hooker,  witli  the  "tiuest  anuy  upjii  tlie  planet." 
In  the  Wilderness,  Gen.  Lee  met  (Jen.  (Irant's  one  liundred  and 
forty-two  th'onsand  (142,000)  with  tifty,  tlionsand  (50,000)  and 
withont  any  accessions  to  this  nnniber,  continued  to  breast  the 
Federal  ai-niy  increased  (save  as  the  Confederate  shot  had  thin- 
ned it)  by  sixty  thomsand  ((10,000)  more.  In  the  battle  of  Win- 
chester, in  the  autumn  of  1S(>4,  Sheridan  only  won  a  dearly 
boug-ht  victory  from  Gen.  Early,  by  hurling  tifty  thousand  (50,- 
000)  npcni  his  twelve  thousand  (12,000.)  In  the  clo.siing  struggle 
(xen.  Lee's  thirty-three  thousand  (.'W.OOO)  w(M-e  not  dislodged 
fram  Petersburg  and  Richmond  until  their  assailants  were 
again  increased  to  one  hundrtnl  and  eighty  tin)usand  (180,000.) 
And  finally,  the  remnant  of  Lee's  heroic  army  did  not  surrender 
to  this  enormous  host  until  it  wa.s  reduced  to  less  than  eight 
thousand  (S,000)  muskets.  Tlu^  aggregate  of  men  i>aroled  at 
Appomattox  was  made  up  of  s;)nie  twenty  or  more  thousand 
(20,000)  stragglei-s,  and  men  on  detached  service,  who  came  in, 
to  avail  themselves  of  tlie  suj)posed  ])acificatioii,  after  the  ter- 
mination of  military  ojterations. 

To  this  disparity  of  forces  upon  land,  and  overwhelming  su- 
periority upon  the  water,  must  be  added  the  advantages 
derived  by  the  North  from  theii-  blockade.  This  crippled  the 
Ganfederaey,  both  in  its  military  and  in  its  financial  efforts. 
The  true  basis  for  credit,  upon  whidi  alone  the  ''sinews  of  war" 
could  have  been  borrowed  in  Euro])e  (where  alone  they  existed 
for  the  new  government)  was  in  the  Southei-n  cotton  and 
tobacco.  ^Ir.  Davis's  administration  sliDuld  have  had  not  only 
the  large  and  jii-eeious  crop  of  ISOO,  but  an  (Mpial  cioj)  in  1861, 
and  successive  ones  in  18(52  and  18(5.'^  only  diminished  in  bulk, 
but  enhanced  in  price,  upon  whidi  to  found,  at  once,  a  system 
of  foreign  loans,  and  an  all-i>ersuading  motive  f  :>r  foreign  recog- 
nition. Only  in  L8(il,  did  tlie  stress  of  domestic  wants  become 
ISO  urgent  as  to  arrest  all  other  tillage,  for  the  production  of 
])rovisions.  Now  the  blockade  never  wholly  arrested  shipments 
of  cotton;  but  it  gradually  became  stringent  enough  tr>  impose 
upon  them  a  tax  in  the  foi-m  of  losses  by  capture,  or  of  bribes 
to  Federal  officials,  sufficient  to  disappoint  effectually  these 
great  [)Ui'poses.  The  financial  right  arm  of  the  Confederacy 
was  tied  uj).  Again,  the  blockade  imposed  such  difficulties 
upon  importations  that,  although  they  continued  almost  to  the 


133  THE  UNITED  STATES  AS  A  MILITARY   NATION. 

last,  they  were  limited  to  a  few  of  the  iiure  couipaet  articles 
which  nurturcnl  the  war;  and  these  were  supplied  in  the  most 
scanty  and  inade(|uate  degree.  Thus,  the  wt^akin-  combatant 
was  kept,  in  a  measure,  unarmed  and  unfed,  dui-ing  the  unecjual 
struggle. 

Fourthly.  To  give  a  correct  estimate  of  Northern  prowess 
in  this  war,  Ihe  trutli  must  be  told — whicli  rs  not  pleasant  to 
the  pride  of  the  Confederates — that  tlieir  armies,  apart  from 
their  deficient  numbers,  were  never  formidable  in  their  char- 
acter. The  Cjufederate  glory  was  dependent  moi-e  on  the 
weakness  of  their  assailants,  than  on  the  intrinsic  vigor  of  their 
defense.  This  assertion,  true  though  distasteful,  will  be  sub- 
stantiated by  these  two  facts:  first,  that  the  people  of  the 
^outh  were  never  roused  to  what  professional  soldiers  call  a 
poi)ular  resistance;  and  secondly,  that  tli(-  gDvernment  never 
had  a  really  organized  and  diiscii)lined  army.  As  to  the  first, 
their  enemies  did  indeed  wage  their  war  in  a  ruthless  way, 
which  gave  abundant  motive  and  justification  for  jtopular  war- 
fare; that  is,  for  turning  every  mah^  of  the  invaded  c(nmtry 
into  a  S'oldiei-  without  the  fornuility  of  enlistment,  and  for 
teaching  him  ti)  regaid  every  invader  as  an  outlaw,  to  be  assail- 
ed by  any  means,  and  in  every  place.  Hut  the  Southern  people 
never  availed  themselves  of  that  right.  Amidst  all  the  unutter- 
able horrors  of  the  raids,  the  burnings,  the  wanton  and  ruinous 
ravagings,  the  honu-  [)eoj)le  of  the  South  uuiiutained  a  singular 
neutrality,  and  submitted  with  an  unaccountable  (piiescence, 
leaving  all  def<'ns(^  and  vengeanci',  alike,  to  the  organized  sol- 
diery. Federal  officials  came  and  went  al  )ng  \'ast  lines  of 
transixtrtat'ion;  cavalrynum  who  had  given  the  country  people 
every  reason  to  regard  and  treat  them  as  wolves,  traversed  the 
regit)U:s  they  had  desolated;  bummers  rode  away  with  their 
spoil,  secure  from  ambuscade  unless  sduic  movable  c:)lunin  of 
the  regular  Confederate  armies,  under  sonu'  Morgan,  CiJuantrel, 
or  Mosby,  happened  to  be  near.  The  citizens — i)lundered, 
ravaged,  murdered — rarely  avenged  themselves  by  becoming 
guerillas. 

This  singular  (piietude  ;)f  a  spirited  pe()i»le  was  to  be  ac- 
counted for  by  several  causes.  Perhaps  the  most  operative  of 
these  was  the  quixotry  of  the  government;  which,  in  its  eager 
desire  for  the  reputation  of  a  civilized  and  honorable  belliger- 


THE    tjNlTJ:t)    STATKS    AS    A    MILITARY    NATION  188 

euf,  nnifoiinly  iie<;lectt'(l  ;iiul  (liseouiajic'd  sucli  citizcii.s  ;is  pio- 
posed  to  resort  to  those  rij^lits  of  nature  wliicli  the  ontra«;es  of 
the  invaders  justified.  Tlie  i)eo])]e.  nioieover.  were  stran«;ers 
to  war  and  bloodshed.  Two  generations  of  ])rofonnd  peace  at 
home,  had  made  ease  pleasant,  and  personal  viMijicance  ablior- 
rent  to  their  habits.  Their  character  was  (inlet,  law-abidinj>\ 
kindly,  in  the  hij;hest  decree.  Their  hijih  civilization,  and  the 
standard  of  material  comfort  and  safety  to  which  they  were 
accustomed,  had  dis(|ualified  them  for  seekin<>'  the  rou<;h  and 
turbulent  vengeance  of  the  guerilla  And  then,  the  men  of 
hardihood  and  spirit  had  responded  at  first  to  the  call  of  their 
country,  and  were  in  the  regular  armies.  So  it  was,  that  the 
Northern  invader  was  almost  wholly  free  from  that  species  of 
anno^'ance  which,  when  combined  with  the  resistance  of  organ- 
ized armies,  becomes  so  terrible — popular  warfare. 

Next,  when  we  asserted  that  the  armies  of  the  Confeder- 
acy, inadequate  in  size  as  they  were,  never  showed  themselves 
truly  good  armies  in  (]uality,  we  did  not  im]tugn  the  gallantry 
of  the  bulk  of  the  men  c()m])osing  them.  Themorale  opioid  v,  jo 
is  a  thing  of  comparative  estimate.  It  may  be  very  true  (as  this 
discussion  will  evince)  that,  compared  with  that  of  tln^  Xortli, 
the  morale  of  the  Confederacy  was  lofty  and  brilliant.  I'ut  it 
must  be  confessed  that,  com])ared  with  the  historic  standard, 
the  Confederate  people  and  soldiery  were  not,  as  a  whole,  a 
heroic  body.  The  war  found  them  in  a  transition  state.  Very 
many,  perhaps  the  most  of  the  reputable  men  (with  nearly  all 
the  women)  still  cherished  the  hardy  virtues  and  ennobling  spir- 
it of  Revolutionary  grandsires.  Yet  the  cori-upting  coitartner- 
shij)  with  the  North  had  continued  just  a  generation  too  long. 
The  leaven  of  a  sensualistic  morality  and  civilizati :)n  was  at 
work  all  through  the  South;  the  contagion  had  already  tainted 
multitudes.  Hence,  althougli  in  the  moment  of  first  enthusiasm 
the  people  seemed  to  rally  almost  as  one  man  to  the  call  of 
liberty  raised  by  the  undebauched  s})irits.  yet  when  the  stress  of 
danger  and  toil  came,  many  proved  themselves  craven.  The 
Confederate  armies  certainly  included  a  class  of  i)atriot  soldicMs 
the  noblest  which  this  age  can  ])roduce,  under  any  clime.  Tliis 
class  was  numerous;  it  embraced,  perhaps  at  all  stages  of  the 
war,  a  majority  of  the  levies.  But  there  was  also  a  large  ele- 
ment of  baser  metal;  men  who  begrudged  their  sacrifices  for 


134  THE  UNITED  STATES  AS  A    MILITARY  NATION. 

liberty,  aud  shii-ked  danger.  And  as  deatli  thinned  tlie  ranlvs 
of  the  original  armies,  this  worse  material  became  relatively 
larger. 

But  the  fact,  that  the  Canfederacy  never  had  a  really  good 
army,  can  be  explained  abundantly,  without  depreciating  the 
gallantry  of  the  Confederate  people.  It  never  had  the  leisure, 
nor  the  skilled  officers,  to  organize  a  thorough  army.  The  pop- 
ulation, though  gallant,  was  ignorant  of  w^ar,  by  reason  of  two 
generations  of  peace.  Tlie  fewest  men  aie  born  soldiers,  like 
the  Jacksons,  the  Ashbys,  the  Sterling  Prices,  the  Forrests. 
For  ordinary  mortals,  it  is  a  hard  and  long  lesison,  t3  learn 
that  untiring  sclf-dfMiial.  rliat  devotion  to  duty,  that  study  of 
detail,  that  carefulness,  iliat  self-government,  that  talent  of 
command,  that  intelligiMirt-  in  the  arts  of  attack  and  defense, 
which  must  be  added  to  jteis  )nal  courage,  to  make  the  good  of- 
ficer. Nothing  can  teach  that  lesson  to  them,  except  long  ex- 
I^erience  in  actual  service.  Now  the  Confederacy  was  comp<^ll- 
ed  to  organize  into  armies  a  larger  jjortion  of  its  men  than  any 
modern  nation  has  been  able  to  keep  in  the  field.  It  was  ybligeu 
to  emplo}'  thousands  of  officers,  where  it  had  only  a  few  score  - 
the  graduates  of  West  I'oint,  and  veterans  of  the  little  army  of 
Mexico — competent.  There  was  not  in  the  cjuntin'  a  tithe  of 
the  practical  knowledge  of  military  duties  which  was  necessary 
to  organize  and  instruct  the  armies  raised.  That  so  much  w'as 
done,  to  approximate  such  bodies  of  unwarlike  men  towards 
the  character  of  regular  armies,  shows  an  extraordinary  gal- 
lantry and  aptitude  f  >r  war,  in  the  Southern  people.  But  the 
armies  nevei-  had  (Miough  competent  officers  to  make  them,  as 
wholes,  well  drilled  or  well  organized  forces.  At  the  beginning 
of  the  campaigns  of  1.S02,  they  had  more  nearly  attained  this 
character:  thenceforward,  while  individuals  ac(|uired  the  exper- 
ience and  hardihood  of  veterans,  the  regiments  gradually  lost 
their  regularity  of  movements,  and  tactics  were  more  and  more 
at  a  discount.  Southern  officers  and  soldiers  uniformly  testi- 
fied that  the  drill  of  the  Northern  regiments  (except  when 
confused  by  attack)  was  better  than  their  own.  But  the 
Northern  army  mnsi  have  been  but  a  sorry  standard  of  com- 
parison in  this  paiticular,  since  they  had  a  part  of  the  same 
difficulties  to  overcome  in  extemporizing  their  forces.  The 
most   experienced  Southern  officers  confessed    that  it  was  the 


THE   UNITED   STATES   AS   A    MILITARY   NATION.  135 

rai-esr  spectai-le  to  see  their  advancing  regiments  preserve  sneli 
an  alignment  in  their  onset  as  to  deliver  anything  like  a  col- 
lective «hock  again  the  enemy.  Usually,  the  onset  was  the 
rush  of  an  impetuous  mob,  in  which  the  quick  men  were  one 
or  two  hundred  yards  in  advance  of  the  slow.  It  was  the  tes- 
timony of  the  soldiers,  that  the  front  line,  if  supported  by  a 
second  line  of  battle  in  the  rear,  must  always  make  its  account, 
when  tired  into  by  the  enemy,  to  receive  also  at  least  a  partial 
tire  from  their  own  friends;  because  no  Confederates  were  ever 
sufficiently  under  rhe  control  of  rheir  ofHcers,  ro  hear  Northern 
bullets  whistle,  without  returning  them.  In  the  best  Confed- 
erate regiments,  during  the  excitement  of  battle,  eager  sugges- 
tions from  privates  were  as  loud,  and  as  intiuential,  as  com- 
mands from  their  officers. 

This  lack  of  drill  was  the  necessary  result,  not  only  of  a  de- 
ficiency of  officers,  but  also  of  the  cruelty  of  the  emergency. 
Troops  must  needs  be  hurried  to  the  front  before  their  train- 
ing was  completed;  often,  before  it  was  begun.  T'avalry  horses 
were  taken  from  pasture  or  i)lougli  to-day,  and  employed  in 
action  to-morrow.  Kecruits  were  .sent  to  the  front  the  day 
they  were  enrolled,  and  wert^  merged  at  once  in  active  forces, 
who.se  exacting  duties  in  the  march,  the  picket,  and  the  line  of 
battle,  left  them  not  one  moment  for  drill,  during  a  whole  half 
year.  Troops  ceased  to  go  into  winter  quartei^s;  for  the  cam 
paigns  extended  through  winter  and  summer  alike.  The  very 
lack  of  instruction  and  drill  necessitated  a  four-fold  exposure 
of  the  efficient  officers;  so  that  the  army  was  at  length  almost 
wholly  deprived  of  its  mon^  capable  and  experienced  leaders, 
by  deatli  or  capture.  And.  to  crown  all.  the  government  had 
laid  a  foundation  for  defective  discipline,  by  making  the  officers 
elective.  From  all  the.se  causes  it  came  to  jiass  that  the  ('on- 
federate  armies,  while  disjjlaying  great  gallantry  on  the  part 
of  a  majority  of  their  uhmi.  had  scarcely  enough  discipline  and 
drill  to  entirlt^  them  to  the  name  of  regular  armies.  This  de- 
ficiency was  confessed  by  the  highest  jtossible  authority,  that 
of  (ien.  Lee  himself.  This  c(msumniate  soldier,  speaking  of 
the  advantage  of  perfect  drill  and  unity  of  action,  and  declar- 
ing that  he  believed  this  advantage  so  great,  as  against  either 
of  the  forces  then  engaged,  as  to  be  almost  incapable  of  exag- 
geration, pointed  to  it  as  the  natural  remedy  for  his  inferiority 


136  THE  UNITED  STATES  AS  A    MILITARY  NATION. 

of  numbers,  lint  tlieu,  pausing,  lie  added,  with  accents  of  sig- 
nificant sadness:  "But  I  cannot  give  tliis  drill  to  my  army, 
because  the  enemy  has  my  officers  in  his  prisons." 

The  Federal  authorities  were  exempt,  in  the  task  of  form- 
ing their  armies,  from  the  most  of  these  difficulties.  They  had, 
first,  the  whole  standing  army  of  the  I'nited  States,  as  a  nucleus 
and  model  for  their  military  crystallization.  They  had  the  ma- 
jor part  of  the  instructed  officers.  They  were  able  to  draw  mer- 
cenary officers  from  all  the  armies  of  Europe.  They,  as  the 
aggressors,  could  choose  their  own  time  for  the  initiative,  and 
needed  not  to  move  their  new  armies  until  they  thought  them 
ready,  while  the  defendants  must,  perforce,  move  to  meet  them, 
prepared  or  unprepared.  And  especially,  the  invaders,  having 
their  own  populous  country  and  all  the  world  to  furnish  num- 
bers, were  able  to  keep  their  new  levie*>  in  the  depots,  until 
they  were  drilled.  It  was  easy  for  them  to  have  enough  men 
at  the  front,  and  enough  also  in  the  camps  of  instruction. 

The  work  which  the  North  had  to  do,  therefore,  was  only 
to  beat  forces  of  one-fourth  their  own  number,  or  less;  and  these 
untrained  to  war.  They  should  have  found  the  Confederate 
armies  almost  as  little  formidable  in  their  quality  as  in  their 
size. 

Fifthly.  The  credit  of  the  North  for  this  exploit  must  also 
be  aftected  by  this  fact,  that  while  they  had  at  the  outset  twen- 
ty-two millions  (22,000,000)  against  five  millions  (5,000,000), 
and  during  the  real  crisis  of  the  war,  twenty  -two  millions 
(22,000,000)  against  three  million  eight  hundred  thousand 
(3,800,000),  they  did  not  deem  these  odds  sufficient,  but  eagerly 
sought  the  aid  of  the  rest  of  the  world.  They  believed  them- 
selves, if  we  may  infer  from  their  actions,  unable  to  crush  this 
feeble  adversary,  without  drawing  from  the  Southern  slaves 
armies  as  large  as  all  those  of  the  Confederacy,  and  from 
Europe  hundreds  of  thousands  of  her  proletaries.  The  Fed- 
eral Secretary  of  War  tells  us  that  he  mustered  out  of  service 
about  one  hundred  and  seventy  thousand  (170,000)  negro  com- 
batants. These  were  recruited  almost  exclusively  from  the 
slaves  of  their  enemies.  When  Gen.  McClellan,  during  the 
Presidential  canvass  of  1864,  nshamed  of  so  savage  and  dis- 
graceful a  dependence,  promised  that  he,  if  made  President, 
would  disband  the  negro  trooi>s,  Lincoln  himself  ridiculed  his 


I'HE   UNITED    STATES    AS    A    MILITARY    NATION.         13t 

pi'omit^e;  saying-  that  this  would  deprive  tlie  riiion  cause  of 
the  aid  of  two  hundred  thousand  (200, (MM>)  men.  and  would  thus 
render  its  suecess  hopeless.  That  is  to  say,  the  head  .of  the  Fed- 
eral T^nion  judged  that  its  twenty-two  niillion.s  (22.000.000). 
backed  by  all  the  mercenaries  of  Europe,  would  be  unable  to 
conquer  these  three  million  eight  hundred  thousand  (3.800,00(1) 
Confederates,  without  the  aid  of  two  hundred  thousand  (20(1,- 
OOOj  partially  reclaimed,  black  savages! 

It  would,  perhaps,  be  hard  to  find  documentary  data,  from 
which  to  learn  the  exact  number  of  foreign  recruits  in  tlie 
Xoithern  armies.  We  can  show  that  this  element  was  very 
large.  .Vll  well-informed  persons  know  that  every  country  of 
Western  Europe  was  canvassed  by  "emigration-agents,"  who, 
under  this  thin  disguise,  were  recruiting  officers  for  the  North ; 
and  that  a  large  part  of  that  human  stream,  which  flows  annu- 
ally into  the  United  States,  was,  during  the  war,  directed  into 
the  I'nion  armies.  Not  only  were  foreigners  found  in  every 
regiment;  whole  brigades,  as  that  of  Meagher,  and  even  divi- 
sions, a.s  that  of  Blenker,  were  composed  exclusively  of  Irish 
men  or  of  (Germans.  In  the  prison  depots  of  the  Confederates, 
half,  at  least,  of  the  captives  gave  evidence  of  foreign  birth. 
The  Secretary  of  War  at  Washington  gives  us  the  nationalities 
of  fifteen  thousand  seven  hundred  (15,700)  men  buried  in  the 
military  Golgotha  of  that  caipital.  Of  these,  he  tells  us,  four 
thousand  nine  hundred  (4,f)00)  were  native  white  soldiers,  four 
thousand  one  hundred  and  eighty  (4,180)  were  negroes,  and  six 
thousand  six  hundred  ((),()00|  wei-e  foreign-born.  Either  the 
native-born  must  have  been  more  chary  of  exposure  to  wounds 
and  disease,  than  the  foreign-born;  or  else,  in  the  armies  whicli 
sent  their  disabled  men  to  Washington,  there  must  have  been 
more  foreigners  than  native  whites  in  tlie  ratio  of  nearly  seven 
to  five.  Once  more.  The  reports  of  the  war  and  navy  de- 
partments of  the  Washington  (lovernment  show  an  aggregate 
of  two  million  six  hundred  and  fifty-six  thousand  (2,(>5(j,000) 
men,  actually  engaged,  at  different  times,  in  the  military  and 
naval  service  of  the  war.  But  the  whole  number  of  men 
capable  of  military  d\ity.  in  the  "loyal"  Sratt^s.  who  had  not 
been  drafted,  was  two  million  stn-en  hundred  and  eighty-four 
thousand  (2.784,000.)  Whence,  if  tho.se  States  had  done  their 
own  fighting,  it  would  follow  that  nearly  half  their  men  must 


138  THE   UNITED    STATES    AS    A    MILITARY    NATION. 

have  beeii  for  a  rinn^  in  senicr.  Bur  tlu-  iinifoiiii  tcsriiiimiv  ;-)f 
travelers  and  <-irizen.-<  was.  that  the  walks  of  civil  life  in  tlie 
Xoi-ih  exhibited  a  very  .slight  depletion  of  their  eustoniary 
throngs.  While,  in  the  South,  every  assenihlatie,  at  chureh.  at 
the  seats  of  justice,  in  the  streets  of  towns  which  were  not 
military  p:)sts.  gave  striking  evidence  of  the  absence  of  nearly 
all  the  arms-bearing  men.  at  the  North,  a  very  small  part  of  the 
home  poituhition  was  absent  in  the  camps.  Now,  the  only 
solution  of  this  riddle  is,  that  their  levies  were  filled  chiefly 
with  foreigners,  rutting  these  data  together,  it  seems  very 
jilain  that  less  than  half  in  the  Northern  armies  were  native 
citizens.  In  other  w  )rds.  these  tweuty-tw)  million  (22.000.000). 
after  recruiting  their  armies  with  two  hundred  thousand 
;200.()00)  negroes,  were  not  able  to  con(]uer  the  three  million 
eiglit  hundr(^d  thousand  (:l.s0().(i(i(ii.  uiiiil  they  liad  associated 
with  them  half  a  million  of  foreigners.  The  North  f  )und  it 
necessary  to  call  all  the  world  to  its  help,  in  order  to  overpower 
its  feeble  adversary! 

But,  sixthly,  the  whole  story  is  not  yet  told.  Even  this 
whole  people,  with  the  negroes  and  all  the  world  to  back  them, 
acknowledged  themselves  unable  to  subdue  the  resistance  of 
their  little  foe.  by  any  ordinaiy  methods  of  warfare  recognized 
among  civilized  nations.  They  were  compelled  to  add  to  these 
the  most  ingenious  combination  of  savage  and  illegitimate  ex- 
pedients, to  undermine  the  adversary  whom  they  could  not 
meet  in  fair  and  etjual  battle.  One  of  these  was  the  incarcer- 
ation of  unarmed  citizens,  captured  in  the  pursuits  of  civil 
life,  who  migli;  }uM-rli:ince  either  l)ec()me  T'onfederate  soldiers 
afterwards,  or  might  aid  some  soldier  or  soldier's  family  with 
their  industry.  Another  was  the  exclusion  by  blockade  of 
medicines  for  the  sick;  a  barbarity  unheard  of  before  amiuig 
polite  nations.  The  calculation  was.  that  the  stroke  of  cold 
steel  or  disease,  in  the  body  of  the  gallant  adversary,  might 
be  aggravated  unto  death  in  the  more  instances;  and  that 
the  pestilence  might  ravage  the  h;)me  ])o]>ulation.  unchecked 
by  the  skill  of  the  physician.  Anothei-  was  the  destruction 
of  food  and  the  implements  of  industry,  among  the  peaceful 
citizens  of  the  South.  It  was  cunningly  calculated,  that  by 
these  means,  some  brave  enemies  at  the  front  might  be  recalled 
home  bv  the  harrowing  news  of  famine  at  their  beloved  hearth- 


THE   UNITED   STATES    AS    A    MILITAltY    NATION.         139 

stones,  01'  that,  at  least,  tlicii'  arms  iiii<i,lit  be  paralyzed  by  (he 
anguish;  and  rhat  sonu*  others  nii^ht  be  starved  out  by  lack  of 
rations.  AVhat  did  it  matter  that  helpless  women,  little  chil- 
dren, aid  men  who  had  shed  their  blood  for  the  tlag  of  the 
United  States,  rho  iiooi-  negroes,  innocent  in  every  sense,  of 
the  war,  might  perish  of  the  dire  but  undeserved  doom  of 
famine?  No  matter,  if  there  was  a  chance  thereby  of  wea.k- 
ening  some  of  those  few  brave  arms,  which  they  so  much 
dreaded  in  battle.  History  will  never  disclose  the  ruthless  and 
universal  diligence  of  the  North  in  this  work  of  destruction. 
It  was  for  this  it  needed  its  million  (l,(l(»().(M)(l)  of  destroyers. 
Its  only  lu>pe  was  to  make  the  dearth  as  wide  as  the  hostile 
country.  Its  politicians  boasted  with  an  amiable  wit,  that  if 
the  prowess  of  neither  (Jen.  ^NlcClellan.  nor  liurnside,  nor 
Hooker,  nor  (Irant,  could  prevail  to  ''crusli  the  rebellion,"  they 
had  enlisted  one,  more  all-conipiering  than  the  whole  of 
them,  general  starvation.  Scarcely  a  county  in  the  interior 
of  tlie  largest  Southern  State  escai)ed  this  systematic  ravage. 
Wherever  the  Northern  troops  went,  work-animals  were  stolen 
or  slaughtered,  with  all  other  live  stock;  all  i>louglis  and  other 
implements  of  husbandi-y  biokeii;  mills  and  faitories  burned; 
tanneries  destroyed,  witli  llieir  hides;  and  the  blessed  bread, 
sacred  gift  of  divine  IM-ovidence  to  man,  either  burned  or 
trampled  under  the  horses'  feet.  The  sweeping  ravages  of 
Sheridan,  in  Virginia,  under  the  express  orders  of  the  com- 
mander-in-chief, and  of  Sherman  in  South  Carolina  and  (leorgia, 
will  never  be  forgotten  while  history  has  a  verdict  to  utter. 
The  flatterers  of  these  men  boasted  that  the  desolation  was  to 
be  so  utter  that  the  crow  flying  across  the  wastes  would  be 
compelled  to  carry  his  own  rations!  And  if  it  was  not  so 
complete,  the  only  reason  was,  that  the  industry  of  even  North- 
ern malice  wearied  of  the  work  of  destruction. 

These  methods,  and  not  the  Federal  arms,  were,  in  truth, 
the  wea]ions  which  wrought  the  ruin  of  tln^  (\)nfederacy.  Its 
little  armies  never  were  beaten;  they  were,  in  fact,  dispersed  by 
the  difticulties  of  subsisteiici'.  They  did  not  yield  to  the  force  of 
arms,  but  to  the  efficacy  of  these  savage  and  cowardly  means. 

One  moi-e  artitice  of  barl)arism  remained.  l)y  which  the 
gigantic  enemy  could  supidement  his  lack  of  prowess;  the  vio- 
lation of  the  cartle  for  the  exchange  of  prisoners.    As  soon  as 


140  THE   TJNITED    STaTKS    AS    A    MILITARY    NaTIOI^. 

the  >\'asliiii.i;toii  Goverimitint  eanie  to  iimkn-stand  the  task  it 
had  niideitaken,  and  to  perceive  its  advantage  in  wearing  out 
the  adversary  which  it  could  not  meet  in  a  fair  field,  it  began 
to  seek  pretexts  for  evading  its  own  engagements  for  this  ex- 
change. Ultimately,  it  came  to  act  upon  the  policy  of  holding 
every  dreaded  Confederate,  whoui  it  captured.  It  mattered 
not  to  it,  that  a  larger  number  of  its  [)wn  men  were  left  to  pine 
or  die  in  captivity.  At  last,  when,  early  in  18(15,  the  argu- 
ments or  the  frank  concessions  of  the  Confederate  Government 
had  removed  the  last  pretext  for  delaying  the  general  exchange, 
"Butler  the  Beast"  was  selected  by  the  Federal  (xeneralissimo, 
as  a  fitting  tool,  to  write  a  letter  so  insolent,  and  so  unworthy 
of  a  soldier,  that  it  was  calculated  all  intercourse  must,  per- 
force, be  interrupted,  and  thus,  the  doors  of  the  prisons  be  final- 
ly closed  u]»on  the  captured  Confederates,  until  their  aid  would 
be  too  late  for  their  cause.  "The  lieast,"  disgraced  a  little 
after  by  his  master,  expressly  disclosed  this  design  I  And  the 
commander-in-chief,  with  equal  candor,  declared,  that  if  the 
fifty  thousand  (50,000)  ('onfederate  soldiers,  whom  he  held, 
were  released,  and  added  to  the  armies  of  their  country,  its 
conquest  would  be  impossible.  He  manifestly  counted  it  for 
nothing,  that  this  exchange  would  restore'  to  his  ranks  fifty 
thousand  (50,000)  of  his  own  braves!  This,  he  felt,  would  be 
no  equivalent;  the  conquest  of  that  number  of  Confederates 
would  require  an  addition  of  three  hundred  thousand  (."{(MMIOO) 
negroes,  or  mercenaries,  or  native  Northerners. 

Here,  then,  is  the  exploit  of  the  Northern  people;  that 
twenty-two  million  (22,000,000),  possessed  of  every  material 
advantage,  aided  by  two  hundred  thousand  (200,000)  negroes 
filched  from  the  South,  and  by  all  the  mercenary  adventurers 
of  the  world  besides,  were  able  to  overpower  three  million  eight 
hundred  thousand  (:>,S00,000),  after  three  years,  and  after  they 
had  added  to  all  the  legitimate  ap])liances  of  civilized  war,  all 
the  savage  expedients  of  bad  faith,  ravage,  sack,  and  disease. 
In  the  sober  light  of  these  facts  and  figures,  the  claim  of  i)rowess 
for  the  North,  in  this  war,  is  infinitely  preposterons.  That  it 
did  not  crush  its  puny  antagonist  within  the  first  six  months, 
is  subject  of  burning  reproach.  That  it  admitted  itself  unable 
to  crush  him  at  all  single-handed,  and  was  compelled  to  invoke 


THE   UNITED   STATES    AS    A    MILITARY    NATION.  141 

the  aid  of  all  Eur(»j)e.  of  tlu'  pool'  ii<\!i>i-o,  of  savajic  artiticc.  and 
bai'baritics  loii^  discarded  by  rivilized  iiiau;  this  should  make 
it  silent  forever,  as  to  the  glories  ;)f  this  war.  It  is,  for  it,  the 
most  mortifying'  exhibition  of  national  impotency.  wlneh  mod- 
ern history  dist-loses,  anywhere  this  side  of  China. 

But  still  it  is  pleaded,  that  if  the  North  failed  to  display 
siji,nal  prowess  in  the  Held,  ir  did  nevertheless  carry  throu<;h 
this  ji^reat  wai-  with  sjiirit  and  deteiniinati  )n;  and  did  actually 
overcome,  somehow,  a  great  resistance.  Even  European  ob- 
servers, iji'norant  of  facts,  seem  to  admit  that,  if  for  nothing; 
else,  the  North  is  to  be  dreaded  for  its  i)erseverauce,  its  me- 
chanical industry,  and  its  financial  resources.  The  plain  state- 
ment of  a  few  truths  will  also  remove  this  conclusion.  It  will 
be  seen,  tliat  the  cost  at  which  the  victory  over  the  Confed- 
erates was  won  is  a  financial  burden,  which  effectually  inca- 
j)acitates  the  United  States  from  ajj^ain  fijihting  with  money; 
that  the  Northern  ])eople,  in  a  moment  of  reckless  i)hrensy, 
purchased  their  revenge  by  crip})lini'-  themselves;  and  that  the 
ruinous  jirice  paid  for  their  triuni])h  leaves  their  financial  credit 
in  as  ugly  a  condition  as  their  military.  They,  more  than  any 
other  people,  account  moui^y  to  be  'the  sinews  of  war.'  On 
that  calculation,  the  ability  of  the  i)eoj)le  for  future  wars  is  to 
be  measured  by  its  ability  to  pay  additional  taxes,  and  to  con- 
tract further  loans  in  the  money-markets  of  the  world,  for  mili- 
tary enterprises.  If  the  Ignited  States  can  get  as  much  more 
money  (and  can  find  among  Southern  negroes  and  foreign 
emigrants  another  seven  hundred  thousand  (700,000)  of  'gud- 
geons,' to  l)e  befooled),  then,  perhaps,  they  are  competent  to 
the  con(p]est  of  another  spirited  little  nation  of  four  or  five 
million  souls.  Such  seems  to  be  the  measure  of  their  ])romise 
for  military  exploits  in  the  future.  There  is  sonu4hing  impres- 
sive to  the  bystander,  in  the  exhibition  of  tremendous  effort. 
If  it  be  granted  that  the  athlete  can  do  again  and  again  what 
we  have  just  seen  him  do.  he  is  invested  in  our  eyes  with  a  very 
portentous  aspect ;  we  feel  that  he  would  be  a  terrible  fellow 
to  have  upon  our  hands.  But  when  we  discover  that  the 
I)resent  ett'orts  (than  which  none  less  would  have  savml  him 
from  being  beaten  by  his  little  adversary)  are  so  far  beyond 
nature,  that  they  have  ruptured  a  blood-vessel  or  an  intestine, 
and  crixjpled  him  for  life,  we  degrade  him  from  a  formidable 


142  THE    UNITED    STATES    AS    A    MILITARY    NATION. 

antagonist  to  a  broken  duwu  champion.    Onr  panic  is  ertectually 
cured. 

To  appreciate,  then,  the  financial  resources  of  the  United 
States  for  further  military  enterprises,  tlie  experienced  public 
man  will  examine  the  following  points:  the  existing  burdens 
of  debt,  which  must  still  be  provided  for,  whatever  new  one 
may  be  incurred;  the  cost  of  the  existing  administration,  to 
the  people;  the  ability  and  disposition  yf  the  people  for  tax- 
paying;  the  economy  and  eflftciency  of  the  present  administra- 
tion; the  present  state  of  the  national  credit,  with  the  probable 
influence  upon  it  of  a  great  increase  in  the  national  indebted- 
ness; the  unity  and  patriotism  of  the  popular  feeling;  and  all 
these,  compared  with  similar  elements  of  strength  in  the  nations 
which  are  to  be  the  probable  antagonists. 

What  then  are  the  existing  burdens  of  debt,  which  the 
United  States  must  carry  through  any  future  wars?  At  the  end 
of  1808,  the  recognized  debt  of  the  Federal  Government  was 
three  thousand  and  eighth-six  and  a  half  millions  of  dollars 
(P,080,438,G:35).  Nearly  the  whole  of  this  accrued  in  the 
four  years  jf  the  Confederate  war.  This  total  includes  the 
current  treasury  notes,  called  greenbacks  (which  are  the  Clov- 
ernment's  i)roniises  to  pay),  and  the  certificated  debt  not  A'et 
bonded.  The  annual  interest  upon  this  debt,  which  must 
be  raised  by  taxation,  is  one  hundred  and  forty  and  a  half  mil- 
lions (|140,424,00()j;  of  which  the  larger  part  is  paid  in  coin, 
although  the  loans  were  received  by  the  Grovernment  in  depre 
ciated  paper.  To  pay  this  debt,  the  United  States  have  thirty- 
four  and  a  third  millions  of  souls  (in  1800,  34,288,870).  Let 
this  debt  be  compared  with  that  of  the  leading  I'owers  of 
Christendom,  especially  those  of  Western  p]urope.  England 
owes  a  national  debt  of  three  thousand  six  hundred  and  forty- 
two  millions  of  dollars  (P.n42,()00,()00),  and  pays  upon  it  an 
annual  interest  of  one  hundred  and  twenty-six  millions  of  dol- 
lars (|126,000,()()0).  To  bear  these  burdens,  there  are  in  the 
IJritish  Isles  about  twenty-nine  millions  (29,000.()00j  of  souls; 
but  they  have,  in  the  remainder  of  the  British  Empire,  one 
hundred  and  fifty-four  millions  (154,000,000),  who  are  com- 
mercially tributary  to  them,  and  thus  supply  the  ability  to  pay 
taxes  sixfold  above  their  numbers.  It  must  be  remembered, 
also,  that  while    the  British   debt  is  the   gradual  result  of  a 


'THE   UNITED   STAtES    AS    A   MILITARY    NaTIOJST.  14!^ 

number  of  great  wars  and  glorious  enterprises,  continued  for 
generations,  which  have  added  vast  territories  and  untold 
wealth  to  the  Empire,  the  debt  of  the  United  States  was  nearly 
all  incurred  in  four  years,  as  the  price  of  tlie  desjlariou  of  the 
fairer  half  of  their  home  domain. 

The  Empire  of  Austria  has  thirry-five  and  a  half  millions 
(35,oU(),()00j  of  souls.  Its  national  debt  is  about  one  thousand 
four  hundred  and  nineteen  millions  of  dollars  (|l,419,0U0,UUUj. 
Austria  is  usually  regarded  as  the  most  burdened  and  paralyzed 
of  the  great  Powers  of  Europe.  France,  with  its  dependencies, 
has  a  population  of  forty-four  and  a  half  millions  (44,500,000). 
Its  national  debt  is  two  thousand  two  hundred  and  forty-seven 
millions  of  dollars  (|2,247,000,000).  All  these  great  Powers 
feel  that,  in  the  burdens  of  their  debts  for  former  wars,  they 
haA'e  given  caution  to  uiankind  for  a  pacific  behavior  in  the 
future. 

But  the  real  burdens  of  the  people  of  the  United  States 
have  not  yet  been  disclosed.  The  (xovernments  of  the  several 
States  acknowledge  an  aggregate  of  debt,  amounting  to  about 
three  hundred  and  fifty-seven  millions  (|35T,000,()00).  This 
should  be  added,  because  it  is  a  part  of  the  load  the  people  have 
to  carry;  the  payment  of  interest  and  principal  must  be  provid- 
ed from  the  taxes  of  the  same  tax-payers  who  pay  the  Federal 
debt.  So,  in  comparing  the  burdens  of  the  United  States  with 
those  of  its  neighbors,  fairness  requires  the  same  addition  to  be 
made;  because  here,  this  Federal,  and  these  State  Govern- 
ments only  perform,  together,  the  same  functions  which  in 
EuroiJe  are  rendered  to  the  people  by  the  central  governments. 
The  State  debts,  then,  must  be  added. 

But  this  is  not  all.  It  is  very  well  knt)wn  that  the  >»'orthern 
people  were  s.o  averse  to  military  service,  that  enlistments  were, 
in  most  cases,  procured  only  by  high  bounties.  When  the 
Central  Government  began  to  draw  imperative  requisitions 
for  men  on  the  States,  the  local  authorities,  instead  of  simply 
drafting  the  required  numbers  from  among  their  own  militia, 
almost  universally  made  arrangements  for  purchasing  merce- 
naries to  supply  their  quotas;  thus  relieving  their  own  citizens 
from  the  dreaded  service.  The  pi-ice  usually  ])aid,  t) wards  the 
end,  for  the  human  cattle  for  Confederate  shambles,  was  not 
less  than  hfteen  hundred  dollars  each.     A  sorry  coninu'ntary, 


144  THE    UNITED    STATES    AS    A    MILITARY    NATION. 

by  the  way,  ui)uii  rlie  coui-a^e  and  parriorisni  of  that  peoph', 
that  so  large  a  bribe  was  needed  to  persnade  them  tit  "save  the 
life  of  the  nati;)u."'  But  thus  it  came  to  pass,  that  not  only  the 
States,  but  cities,  counties,  country  towns,  and  even  the  rural 
subdivisions  called,  a  mono-  tliat  peojtle.  townships,  raised  loans, 
and  purchased  substitutes.  Laws  were  passed  to  authorize 
them  to  make  such  loans,  and  to  levy  the  taxes  necessary  to 
lirovide  for  theii-  interest.  Mrtney  had  indeed  been  raised,  in 
many  cases,  for  internal  improvements,  in  the  same  mode;  and 
similar  loaus  for  canals  and  railr  tads  remain  as  a  part  of  the 
popular  burdens.  The  aggregate  of  these  bounty-debts  cannot 
be  estimated  by  us,  from  any  evidences  in  our  reach;  but  some 
data  will  be  given  to  enable  the  reader  to  approximate  it.  The 
city  of  Philadelithia  alone,  it  is  believed,  owes  a  debt  of  forty- 
f  mr  millions  |S44. ()()(). (KKli.  chit-tly  fitr  bounties.  It  was  a  very 
••loyal"  city.  I;  claims  about  six  hundred  thousand  (OIKt.Ood) 
souls.  The  State  of  New  York  admits  a  bounty-debt  of  its 
cwn  of  twenty-six  millions  (.^iMi.ltOO.lMMI).  \\\\\  cities,  counties 
and  townshi})s.  within  the  State,  have  also  their  own  little  debts 
fur  this  and  similai-  objects,  in  additi  »n.  The  Comptroller  of 
the  State  Treasury  received  inconijdeti^  rctni-ns  of  these  local 
debts,  from  which  he  made  an  aggregate,  at  the  end  of  last 
year,  of  eighty-three  and  a  half  millions  (f83,500.(»(M)i.  The 
State  of  New  York  claims  a  jtopulation  of  three  million  eight 
hundred  thousand  (:5.S(M(. ()()(»).  The  two  instances  of  this  city 
and  this  State,  may  indicate  how  the-  local  burdens  have  accrued. 
A  few  othe]-  items  may  aid  in  our  apjiroximatitm.  The 
Federal  Secretary  of  Wax  informs  us  tliat.  in  the  latter  part 
of  tin-  war.  there  were  one  hundred  and  thirty-six  thousand 
(l.'>r>.()(Ml)  re-enlistments  of  the  veterans  houorably  discharged. 
It  is  W(41  known  that  these  usually  received  the  highest  boun- 
ties. If  we  place  them  at  fifteen  hundred  dollars  each,  these 
cost  the  Xoithein  people  two  hundred  and  four  millions 
(1204,000,0(10).  The  system  of  bounties  was  general  from 
May,  ]S(;:*>,  until  the  end  of  the  war.  The  (Government  itself 
fixed  the  minimum  ]»rice  of  a  man  at  three  hundred  doihirs. 
Ity  appointing  that  sum  as  the  cost  of  an  exemption  from  the 
draft.  But  it  is  well  known  that  few  substitutes  were  pur- 
chased at  so  cheap  a  rate.  The  Secretary  of  AYar  informs  us 
that  after  May  1,  1868,  there  were  one  million  six  hundred  and 


TnE    TTNITED    STATES    AS    A    MILITAUY    NATION.         14^ 

tliiii y-t'om-  tlioiisaiul  (l,G34,()(Hr)  ciilisrinciirs.  Phu-iiij;  the  cost 
of  each  of  these  eiili-stiiieuts  at  tluee  luiiulred  doHars,  which 
is  far  below  the  averaj^e  bounty,  soinebDdy  had  to  i)ay  for  them 
foui-  hundied  and  ninety  millions  (|4no.()0().()(l(l).  The  "boun- 
ty-jnm})eis/  as  is  well  known,  peipeli-ated  imnuMise  frauds; 
and  the  number  of  bounties  paid  tliem  was  far  larger  tliaii  tliat 
of  the  enlistments. 

We  are  thus  convinced  that  this  lui^e  "unknown  (quantity" 
in  the  problem,  the  local  and  State  bounty-debt,  cannot  be  less 
than  many  hundreds  of  milli  >ns  of  dollars.  But  in  estimating- 
the  actual  linancial  burden  which  tlie  people  of  the  United 
States  must  carry,  through  any  future  war,  all  this  must  be 
added.  It  was  a  part  of  the  cost  of  the  Confederate  war.  The 
interest  and  principal  of  it  must  be  paid  by  the  same  people 
who  have  the  Federal  debt  to  jjay.  If  the  policy,  pursued  by 
the  (xovernment  as  to  the  local  obligations  incurred  in  the  war 
of  the  Kevolution,  is  again  to  prevail,  all  these  bounty-debts 
should  be  assunu^l  and  funded  by  the  InittMl  States.  Already 
this  claim  is  heard  in  many  (juarters.  The  recognized  State 
and  Federal  debts,  as  w(-  have  seen,  amount  to  three  billion 
four  hundred  and  forty-three  million  d  )llars  (13,443,195,000). 
It  is  most  manifest,  that  the  total  mass  of  public  debt  now 
resting  on  the  American  people  (nearly  the  whole  incurred  in 
the  late  war),  for  the  payment  of  wliicli  ]U'ovision  must  be 
made  l)y  taxation,  must  be  at  least  four  billions  jf  dollars 
(.|;4,()()(),()()0,()()()).  Mv.  Andrew  Johnson,  late  President  of  the 
United  States,  and  an  ardent  advocate  of  the  war,  always 
aftirmed  constantly,  that  tlu:>  total  cost  of  the  war,  to  the  tax- 
payers, would  prove  to  be  live  billions  (|5,000,000,000).  He, 
of  course,  is  good  authority.  And  the  interest  on  this  debt  is 
fromy?7'^  fo  seven  and  one  fifth  per  centum'. 

Some  may  be  so  thoughtless  as  to  sujtpose  that  repiidiation 
would  lift  this  vast  incubus  off  the  shoulders  :)f  the  nation. 
The  fatal  objections  to  rebelling  that  deliverance  by  that  mode, 
are,  first,  that  nobody  would  lend  his  money  for  the  s(Mond  war 
to  a  debtor  who  so  treacher  )usly  rid  himself  of  his  ol)ligations 
for  the  first;  wlienct^  tlie  national  credit  would  ai  once  succumb; 
and.  secondly,  that  the  annihilation  of  so  many  securities  of 
j)ublic  debt  would  immediately  ])i'oduce  a  financial  convulsion, 
at  which  the  private  wealth  Df  immense  numbers  at  the  North, 


146  THE   UNITED   STATES    AS   A    MILITARY   NATION. 

already'  to  a  very  large  extent  speculative  aud  factitious,  would 
collapse,  like  a  soap  bubble  pierced  with  a  straw.  The  over- 
burdened credit  of  the  government  cannot  be  lifted  up  by 
repudiation. 

Another  burden  which  the  people  of  the  United  States  must 
carry,  through  any  future  war,  along  with  the  interest  of  its 
existing  debt,  is  the  cost  of  its  present  administration  upon  the 
peace  establishment.  In  the  year  1868,  the  Federal  income 
was  about  three  hundred  and  seventy-six  aud  a  half  millions 
$376,000,000),  and  the  expenditures  were  about  one  million 
(1,000,000)  more.  We  have  seen  that  one  item  of  this  expen- 
diture was  the  annual  interest  upon  the  debt,  one  hundred  and 
forty  millions  and  a  half  (110,500,000).  This  left  something 
more  than  two  hundred  and  thirty-six  millions  (^236,000,000) 
as  the  cost  of  the  military,  naval  and  civil  service.  But  the 
goyernments  of  the  States,  which  are  an  unavoidable  part  of 
the  public  burdens,  cost  last  year  nearly  seventy-six  and  a  half 
millions  (76,500,000).  Adding  tliis  sum.  we  find  that  the  Ameri- 
can people  actually  paid  to  their  governments,  the  last  year, 
four  hundred  aud  fifty-three  millions  of  dollars  (|153,000,000i. 
And  this  was  exclusive  of  the  support  of  religion  (with  which 
the  governments,  State  and  Federal,  profess  to  have  nothing 
to  do),  and  exclusive  also  of  the  costs  of  municipal  administra- 
tion, and  of  the  larger  part  of  the  cost  of  the  national  education, 
which  are  paid  for  by  the  people  separately.  Nor  is  the  interest 
on  the  vast  bounty  debts  included. 

Let  this  burden  be  compared  with  those  borne  by  the  lead- 
ing nations  of  Europe,  which  are  usually  believed  to  tax  the 
strength  of  their  subjects  as  severely  as  nature  can  well  endure. 
Austria,  with  a  million  (1,000,000)  more  of  people  than  the 
United  States,  pays  her  government  annually  two  hundred  aud 
thirty-eight  and  a  half  millions  of  dollars  ($238,500,000).  The 
forty  four  millions  (11,000,000)  of  Frenchmen  are  taxed,  in  all, 
three  hundred  and  eighty-five  millions  (385,000,000).  The 
British  Empire  collects  a  national  revenue  of  three  hundred 
and  thirty-seven  millions  (337,000,000).  It  appears,  therefore, 
that  the  people  of  the  United  States  now  have  the  most  costly 
and  onerous  system  of  government  to  sustain,  and  the  heaviest 
taxation,  in  a  season  of  profound  peace,  of  any  people  in  Chris- 
tendom.   But  the  most  startling  fact  is,  that  their  money  goes 


THE   UNITED   STATES    AS    A    MrLITARY    NATION.  147 

SI)  vei y  short  a  waj  towards  defending  the  coiintrr.  Whih- 
Ansirii!,  out  :)f  the  revenues  above  uientioned,  i»ays  tlie  interest 
on  her  debt,  and  tlie  whole  cost  of  jj;()vernnient,  islie  sustains 
also  rwo  hundred  and  forty-four  thousand  (244,00(1)  armed  men, 
as  her  peace  establishment;  France,  four  liundred  and  fifty- 
eiirht  thousand  (458,000),  and  England.,  two  hundred  and  six 
thousand  (L'0(J,000).  But  the  United  States,  with  an  income 
larger  by  one-fourth  than  the  largest  of  them,  and  a  home  pop- 
ulation whose  government  should  cost  little,  seeing  the  people 
in  theory  govern  themselves,  sustains  only  fifty-six  thousand 
(Mght  liundred  and  eighty-one  (5(»,881)  soldiers,  sailors,  and 
marines,  to  defend  the  country!  Tlie  comparison  of  this  mili- 
tary establishment  with  that  of  (Ireat  Britain,  is  especially 
damaging,  because  that  empire,  like  tlie  United  States,  has  no 
conscrii»tion,  and  raises  its  armies  by  enlistment  and  pay.  How 
friglitful  must  be  tluit  incompetency,  disorder,  and  peculation, 
wlncli,  out  of  revenues  so  immense,  effects  so  little  for  national 
defense! 

In  the  United  vStates  a  smaller  population  actually  pays  a 
larger  sum  than  in  any  of  the  old  despotisms  of  Europe.  It  is 
thus  demonstrated  that  tlie  taxation  must  be  luore  onerous 
here  than  in  any  of  them.  Let  this  be  illustrated  in  a  few^  par- 
ticulars. The  municipal  government  of  the  city  of  Xew  York, 
with  about  nine  hundred  thousand  (900,000)  people,  costs 
twenty-two  millions  of  dollars  (|2l',000,000)  annually,  in  addi- 
tion to  the  State  and  Federal  imposts.  Tlie  taxes  of  the  citizens 
of  the  State  of  Xew  York  exacted  by  State  laws,  amount  to 
twelve  dollars  (fl2)  annually  for  every  soul.  There  are  town- 
ships in  that  State  where  the  Federal,  State,  and  local  taxes 
make  six  per  centum  upon  the  total  values  of  all  the  property  of 
every  si)ecies,  rated  at  a  full  valuation.  The  incoiuie  tax  of 
Great  Britain  is  now  (if  we  mistake  not)  two  and  a  half  pence 
on  the  i)ound  sterling  of  clear  income,  which  is  but  little  over 
one  per  centum.  The  income  tax  of  the  Ignited  States  is  five 
per  centum.  This  tax  in  (treat  Britain  yielded,  last  year,  not 
(juite  thirty  millions  of  dollars  (!it;aO,000,000);  in  the  Ignited 
States,  thirty-tliree  millions  (|:{:^,000.0()0).  lint  the  former 
country,  with  its  hundred  and  fifty-four  millions  (154,000,000) 
of  commercial  tributaries,  is  live  times  as  able  to  pay  an  lucomi* 
tax  as  the  United  States. 


148  THE   UNITED   8TATES    AS    A    MILITARY    NATION. 

It  may  be  objected  to  this  surprising  picture,  that  it  canuot 
be  consistent  with  the  ehistic  prosperity  of  this  teeming,  new 
country.  Tlie  reply  is,  that  tlie  country  is  not  now  either  elastic 
or  prosperous.  The  burden  of  taxation  is  actually  crushing  it 
into  a  collapse.  All  industrious  classes,  who  do  not  make  their 
gains  at  the  expense  of  others,  are  sensibly  overburdened.  The 
traffic  of  the  country  is  unhealthy,  and  the  circulation  of  com- 
modities is  extravagantly  costly.  Notwithstanding  nominal 
high  wages,  the  laborer  is  more  and  more  depressed;  and  in 
our  great  metropolis  every  tenth  human  being  is  a  pauper  in 
midsummer! 

Now  if  the  people  of  the  United  States,  with  inferior  num- 
bers and  ability  for  enduring  taxation,  are,  in  this  time  of  peace, 
Iturdened  with  a  larger  debt,  heavier  taxes,  and  a  more  costly, 
j.rodigal,  and  inetticient  government,  than  any  of  their  great 
neighbors,  it  is  plain  they  are  financially  hel])less  for  great 
military  enter])i-ises  against  those  neigli])!)rs. 

But  let  this  argument  be  enlianced  by  a  view  of  the  present 
state  of  the  national  credit.  The  only  currency  of  the  people 
is  a  depreciated  paper,  based,  not  on  a  capital  stock  of  specie, 
but  on  the  promises  to  pay  of  this  overburdened  debtor,  the 
(rovernment.  And  meantime  the  bonds  of  the  United  States, 
bearing  six  per  cent,  interest  in  specie,  fluctuate  in  London 
from  seventy-two  to  eighty-three  in  the  hundred;  while  the 
scrip  of  the  British  national  debt,  paying  an  interest  of  only 
three  and  a  \i^\i  per  cent.,  sells  almost  at  pari  The  present 
burdens  of  the  people  so  obviously  tax  their  utmost  strength, 
that  the  credit  of  the  Grovernment  staggers  under  those  burdens 
in  the  hour  of  peace,  and  in  the  glow  of  recent  victory.  Let  a 
grave  danger  arise,  bringing  the  certainty  of  another  great 
addition  to  this  monstrous  load,  aiul  tlu^  whole  fabric  of  public 
credit  would  dissolve  at  once  into  ruin. 

The  Washington  Government,  if  it  is  wise,  will  therefore 
cultivate  a  very  pacific  demeanor  towards  all  its  powerful 
neighbors.  And  it  will  be  further  inclined  to  this  prudent 
policy,  if  it  considers  the  tendency  of  its  methods  for  conquer- 
ing the  South,  and  for  treating  it  when  conquered,  to  make  the 
ex-Confederates  trustw^orthy  and  istaunch  supporters  of  its  flag 
under  the  burdens  and  trials  of  another  war.  The  lesson  to  be 
drawn  from  this  review  of  the  "situation"  is,  therefore,  obvious- 
ly one  ol  peace. 


STONEWALL  lACKSON.' 

A  lecture  delivered  in  Baltimore  in  November,  1872,  by  Rev.  Dr. 
R.  L.  Dabney. 


(Anything  from  the  able  pen  of  Dr.  Dabney  concerning 
Stonewall  Jackson  would  be  read  with  interest.  His  'position 
as  Chief  of  Statf,  his  intimate  personal  relations  with  the  great 
chieftain,  and  his  study  of  his  character  and  his  campaigns 
when  acting  as  his  chosen  biographer,  peculiarly  fit  Dr.  Dab- 
ney to  tell  the  story  of  Jackson's  life,  or  to  delineate  his  char- 
acter. We  are  confident,  therefore,  that  our  readers  will  thank 
us  for  giving  them  the  following  j^aper,  even  though  there  may 
be  dissent  from  some  of  the  views  presented.  We  print  it  just 
as  it  was  originally  delivered,  only  regretting  that  we  are  com- 
pelled by  the  press  upon  our  pages  to  divide  it  into  two  parts.) 

I  am  expected  to  speak  to-night  of  Stonewall  Jackson.  The 
subject  sounds  remote,  antiquated,  in  these  last  days.  How 
seldom  does  that  name,  once  on  every  tongue,  mix  itself  now-a- 
days,  with  the  current  speech  of  men?  Is  it  not  already  a  fos- 
sil name,  almost?  I  must  ask  yju,  in  order  to  inspect  it  again, 
to  lift  off  sundry  superincumbent  strata  of  your  recent  living 
memories  and  inttn-ests,  to  dig  down  to  it.  (Jreat  is  tlie  con- 
trast wrought  by  the  nine  calendar  years  which  have  inter- 
vened since  the  glory  of  conquering  Jackson,  and  the  sequel 
"Jackson  is  dead,"  were  blown  by  fame's  trumpet  from  Chan- 
cellorsville  over  all  lands,  and  thrilled  the  praecordia  in  every 
Southern  bosom.  Then,  the  benumbing  shock  which  the  words 
struck  into  our  hearts,  taught  us  how  great  and  heroic  this  man 
had  made  himself,  how  essential  to  our  cause,  how  foremost  in 
all  our  hopes.  And  when  his  great  Sujjerior  said  (with  a  mag- 
niinimity  whicli  matches  Jackson's  heroism),  "Tell  him  he  has 
'o^st  his  left  arm;  but  I  have  lost  my  right  arm";  all  men  felt. 
"Yea!  Lee  has  lost  his  right  arm;  the  cause  has  lost  its    right 

\ From  •Southern  Historical  Society  Papert."     April.  May.  1883.  149 


150  STONEWALL    JACKSON. 

anil."  And  the  thickening  disasters  wliich  that  h)ss  soon  en- 
tailed, taught  them,  educated  them,  for  a  time,  to  appreciate 
Jackson's  as  the  transcendant  fame  of  all  our  war.  It  sounded 
in  every  true  heart;  it  echoed  in  us  from  the  thunder  of  the  final 
downfall.     But  now,  who  recalls  it  to  his  speech? 

Why  this?  Was  that  fame  an  empty  simulaceum  worthy 
only  to  be  a  nine-days'  wonder,  or  was  his  devotion  a  blunder? 
Or  are  our  people  changed,  so  as  to  be  no  longer  able  to  appre- 
ciate that  devotion?  We  hope  not,  for  it  were  a  sad  thing  for 
them,  betokening  moral  death,  decay  and  putrescence,  that 
they  should  become  incaj)able  of  a  heart-homage  to  this  name. 
We  hope  not. 

But  it  is  already  anti(]uated;  for  the  world  moves  fast  in 
these  times.  Many  things  have  happened  in  these  times,  to  stir, 
to  fatigue,  to  wring  our  hearts;  great  wrongs  to  be  endured 
passively  until  endurance  obtused  the  sensibility,  multiplied 
tragical  wails  of  friends  sinking  in  the  abyss  of  poverty  and 
obscure  desipair;  a  social  revolution;  a  veritable  cataclysmus, 
which  has  swept  away  our  old,  fair,  happy  world,  with  its  pleas- 
ant homes  fragrant  with  ancestral  virtues  and  graces,  and  has 
left  us  a  new  w^orld,  ais  yet  chiefly  a  world  of  quicksand  and 
slime;  with  no  olive  tree,  alas,  as  yet  growing.  Yes;  we  have 
lived  long  in  these  nine  evil  years;  to  us  they  are  a  century  of 
experiences.  We  are  odl,  very  old,  superannuated  perhaps, 
those  of  us  who  remember  eTackson,  and  the  days  when  he 
fought  for  freedom.  Will  you  not  then  bear  with  our  garrulity 
a  little,  should  we  even  babble  of  our  hero?  For  it  is  a  pleas- 
ant thing  to  recall  those  old  days  of  wearing  the  grey,  with  a 
Jackson  to  lead  us  to  assured  victory,  when  we  were  men  as 
yet ;  with  rights  and  freedom  of  our  own,  slipping  then  indeed 
from  our  too  inept  hands,  yet  enough  our  own  still  to  fight  for; 
when  we  had  hope,  and  endeavor  and  high  emprise,  insipired 
by  our  leader's  example;  and  hardship  and  danger  for  the 
cause,  endured  cheerily,  as  a  sport;  when  we  had  a  country, 
loved  all  the  more  proudly  that  she  was  insulted  and  bleeding. 
The  memory  of  those  days  is  bright;  but  it  is  attended  by  a 
contrast  most  black  and  grim.  Ovei-  against  that  splendid  past, 
there  glooms  the  shadow  of  the  Mammon-Molock,  named  by 
mockery,  "reconstruction,"  with  its  most  noisome  iscalawag 
odor,  reeking  of  the  pit.    The  joy  of  this  reminiscence  must  be 


STONEWALL    JACKSON.  151 

then  a  mixed  joy,  and  the  duty  assigned  me,  while  sacred  and 
not  unpleasing — never  shall  it  be  unpleasing  to  us  to  celebrate 
the  fame  of  Jackson;  for  Aim  the  shadow  touches  not — yet  a 
duty  difficult  and  sad. 

I  remember  well,  that  naught  except  a  circumstance  is  deem- 
ed by  you  to  have  endowed  this  hand  with  any  fitness  to  re- 
fresh the  characters  of  that  fame;  the  circumstance  of  a  brief 
association  with  his  person  during  the  most  glorious  part  of 
his  career.  You  would  fain  hear  from  me  what  manner  of  man 
he  appeared  to  one  who  was  next  to  him,  the  ordinary  mouth- 
piece of  his  will,  the  sharer  of  his  bivouac  and  his  morsel,  who 
got  the  nearest  glimpses  through  the  portals  of  that  reserve, 
which  no  man  might  enter,  who  watched  closely,  and  he  may 
even  venture  to  affirm,  intelligently,  the  outworkings  of  the 
secret  power  within.  This  so  reasonable  desire  of  yours  I  pro- 
pose to  satisfy,  not  by  presuming  to  name  and  catalogue  his  at- 
tributes, analytically,  by  my  judgment,  or  conceit,  as  may  be — 
for  this  would  be  to  regard  you  as  pupils,  rather  than  patrons — 
nor  yet,  by  studying  the  cumulation  of  superlative,  laudatory 
epithets, — for  this  would  imply  that  I  deemed  you  not  only  pu- 
pils, but  gullible' — but  by  painting  before  you  some  select,  sig- 
nificant action  of  Jackson's  own,  wherein  you  may  judge  for 
yourselves  as  freely  as  other  spectators,  what  manner  of  man 
this  was.  And  I  exhort  you  to  expect  in  this  description  no 
grace,  save  the  homely  one  of  c/ear  iruf/i:'  homeU'  it  may  be 
and  most  ungamished,  yet  truly  what  my  eyes  saw  and  my 
ears  heard.  For  is  not  this  tlie  quality  most  worthy  of  him 
who  would  portray  Jackson?  And  should  the  narrative  have, 
with  its  other  unskillfulness,  that  of  a  certain  egotistn,  I  pray 
you  bear  in  mind,  that  the  necessity  of  this  emerges  in  a  man- 
ner from  my  task.  For  what  is  my  qualification  therefor?  save 
that  it  was  my  fortune,  along  with  many  worthier  men  in  the 
ranks  to  behold  (not  my  merit  to  do)  some  of  these  wonders 
whereof  you  would  fain  hear;  and  when  you  ask  for  the  testi- 
mony of  the  eye-witness,  the  hunrble  Ego  must  needs  speak  in 
the  egotistical  first  person. 

And  first,  that  I  should  ever  have  been  invited  to  be  next 
his  person  at  all,  was  characteristic  of  Jackson.  He,  who  was 
an  alumnus  of  the  military  academy  at  West  Point,  and  noth- 
ing but  a  professional  military  man  all  his  life,  was  least  bound 


152  STONEWALL    JACKSON. 

in  professional  trammels.  This  rrair  he  signified,  in  part,  bv 
his  selection  of  successive  chiefs  for  his  staff,  none  of  whom 
had  even  snuffed  the  classical  air  of  West  Point  or  Lexington, 
my  intended  predecessor  and  actual  successor  (J.  A.  Armstrong 
and  C.  J.  Faulkner),  and  the  next  successor  (A.  S.  Pendleton), 
but  chiefly  by  the  selection  of  me,  a  man  of  peace,  and  soldier 
Df  the  Prince  of  I'eace,  innocent,  even  in  youth,  of  any  tincture 
of  military  knowledge.  Herein  was  indeed  a  strange  thing; 
That  I,  the  parson,  tied  to  him  by  no  blood  tie,  or  interest,  and 
by  acquaintanceship  only  slightest  and  most  transient;  that  I, 
at  home  nursing  myself  into  partial  convalescence  from  tedious 
fever,  contracted  in  the  performance  of  my  spiritual  functions 
among  the  soldiers  of  the  previous  campaign;  that  I.  conscious 
only  of  unfitness,  in  body  and  mind,  for  any  direct  help  to  the 
cause,  save  a  most  sore  apprehension  of  its  need  of  all  right- 
eous help,  and  true  love  to  it;  that  such  an  one  as  I  should,  in 
the  spring  of  1862,  be  in\ited  by  him  to  that  post.  Verily,  had 
not  all  known  "this  is  a  man  that  doth  not  jest,"  it  should  have 
seemed  to  me  a  jest.  But  the  wisest  men,  speaking  most  in 
God's  fear,  replied  to  me:  "See  that  thou  be  not  rash  to  shut 
this  door,  if  it  be  that  God  harh  o}iened  unto  thee."  And  / 
feared  to  shut  ti,  until  he.  by  whom  the  call  was  uttered,  should 
know  how  unfit  I  was  to  enter  in.  Further  than  this,  in  ver\" 
truth,  my  mind  went  not. 

But  if  you  would  hear  on  what  wise  Jackson  was  wont  to 
.speak,  these  are  iha  ipsissima  verba: 

"Near  Mt.  Jackson,  April  8th,  1862. 
'  ^My  Lear  Doctor: 

"The  extra  sessiim  of  our  Legislature  will  prevent  Mr.  Jas. 
D.  Armstrong,  of  the  Virginia  Senate,  from  joining  me  as  my 
A.  A.  General.  If  the  position  would  be  acceptable  to  you, 
please  take  the  accompanying  recommendatiDn  to  Kichmond, 
get  the  appointment,  and  join  me  at  once,  provided  you  can 
make  your  arrangements  to  remain  with  me  during  the  re- 
mainder of  the  war.  Your  rank  will  be  that  of  Major.  Your 
duties  will  re(iuire  early  rising  and  industry.  Please  let  me 
hear  from  you  at  once. 

"Very  truly  your  friend, 

"T.  J.  JACKSON." 


STONEWALL    JACKSON.  153 

Now,  is  not  the  fashion  of  these  words  a  very  revelation  to 
him  who  will  consider  of  the  fashion  of  the  man?  He  has 
time  to  tell  that  which  is  essential,  but  no  word  more.  He 
makes  it  known,  that  his  war  means  work,  and  is  no  dilettan- 
tism, or  amateur  soldiering.  Nor  is  it  the  warfare  of  gallant  bar- 
barians, wherein  much  castrameutal  laziness  or  even  license 
can  redeem  itself  by  some  burst  of  daring  and  animal  phrensy; 
but  "early  rising  and  industry.''  "Now,  wilt  thou,  or  wilt  thou 
not?"  And,  if  yes,  then  let  thy  act  fuUow  thy  assent  without 
dallying.  But  yet,  only  on  one  condition  must  the  ''yes"  be 
said  to  such  as  him,  to  remain  uuchanged  ''during  the  renuiin- 
der  of  the  war."  He  who  would  aspire  to  work  and  fight  as 
Jacksan's  next  assistant,  must  be  one  who  would  not  look  back 
after  he  had  put  his  hand  to  the  plough;  but  one,  who  like  his 
master,  came  to  stay  with  his  work  until  it  wa«  ended,  except, 
perchance.  God  should  first  end  him. 

Thus  then  went  I,  to  show  Jackson  why  I  might  not  enter 
into  this  door  of  service,  and  yet  seem  no  recreant  (in  staying 
out)  to  my  country's  needs.  I  found  him  at  a  place,  gateway  of 
the  mountains  that  befriended  him,  named  of  the  vicinage  Con- 
rad's Store;  the  Shenandoah  tlood  before  liim,  and  beyond,  mul- 
titudinous enemies  thronging — lield  at  bay,  checkmated,  gnash- 
ing vainly  up(jn  him;  while  he,  in  the  midst  of  din  and  march- 
ing battalions,  going  to  the  watch-post,  and  splashing  squad- 
rons, splashing  through  mire  most  villainous,  and  of  snow- 
wracks  and  sleet  of  the  ungenial  spring, — of  ''winter  lingering 
in  the  lap  of  spring," — stood  calm,  patient,  modest,  yet  serious, 
as  though  abashed  at  the  meanest  man's  reverence  for  him ;  but 
at  sternest  peril  unabashed.  After  most  thoughtful,  yea,  fem- 
inine care  of  food  and  fire  for  me,  he  took  me  apart  saying,  "I 
am  glad  that  you  have  come."  But  I  told  him  that  I  was  come, 
I  feared,  uselessly,  only  to  reveal  my  unfitness,  and  retire;  al- 
ready half-broken  by  camp-disease,  and  enervated  by  student's 
toil.  "But  Providence,"  replied  he,  "will  preserve  your  health, 
if  he  designs  to  use  you."  I  was  unused  to  arms,  and  ignorant 
of  all  military  art.  "You  can  learn,"  said  he.  "When  would 
you  have  me  assume  my  office?"  "Rest  to-day,  and  study  the 
'Articles  of  ^A'a^,'  and  begin  to-morrow."  "But  I  have  neither 
outfit,  nor  arms,  nor  horse,  for  immediate  service."  "My  quar- 
termaster shall  lend  them,  until  you  procure  your  own."    "But 


154  STONEWALL    JACKSON. 

I  have  a  graver  disqualification,  which  candor  requires  me  to 
disclose  to  you,  first  of  mortals;  I  am  not  sanguine  of  success; 
our  leaders  and  legislators  do  nor  seem  to  me  to  comprehend 
the  crisis,  nor  our  people  to  respond  to  it;  and,  in  truth,  the 
impulse  which  I  feel  to  flv  our  of  my  sacred  calling,  to  my 
countr\''s  succor,  is  chiefly  the  conviction  that  her  need  is  so 
desperate.  The  effect  on  me  is  the  reverse  of  that  which  the 
old  saw  ascribes  to  rhe  rars  when  rhey  believe  the  ship  is  sink- 
ing." "But,"  saith  he,  laughing;  "If  rhe  rats  will  only  run 
this  way,  the  ship  will  not  sink."    Thus  was  I  overruled. 

You  will  remember  that  rheory  of  his  character,  which 
most  men  were  pleased  to  adopt,  when  he  was  first  entrusted 
with  command:  ''This  man,"  said  they,  "is  true,  and  brave,  and 
religious;  but  narrow  and  mechanical.  He  is  the  man  to  lead 
a  fighting  battalion,  under  the  direction  of  a  head  that  can 
think;  but  strategy,  prudence,  science,  are  not  in  him.  His 
very  reserve  and  relucrance  ro  confer  resulr  from  his  own  con- 
sciousness, that  he  has  no  faculry  of  speech  nor  power  of 
thought,  to  debate  wirh  orher  men."  Had  I  been  capable  of  so 
misjudging  his  silence  and  modesry,  as  to  adopt  this  theory, 
his  career  must  ere  this  have  blown  it  all  into  thin  air;  the  first 
Manassas  and  Kernstown,  and  the  retreat  before  Banks  had  al- 
ready done  thaf,  for  all  save  fools.  All  who  served  under  him 
had  already  learned  that  there  was  in  him  abundant  thought 
and  counsel,  deep  and  sagacious.  He  asked  questions  of  all; 
sought  counsel  of  none;  "gave  no  account  to  any  man  of  his 
matters."  Once  only,  did  council  of  war  ever  sit  for  him,  to 
help  him  to  "make  up  his  mind."  And  it  was  then,  by  their 
inferior  sagacity,  made  up  so  little  to  his  liking,  that  he  asked 
such  aid  no  more.  Power  of  speech  there  was  in  him  also,  as 
I  witnessed;  such  truly  eloquent  speech,  as  uttered  quickly  the 
very  heart  of  his  thought,  and  could  fire  the  heart  of  the  list- 
ener. But  he  deemed  rhar  rhe  conrrovej^sy  he  waged  was  no 
longer  parliamentary;  rhar  rhe  only  logic  seemly  for  us  at  that 
stage,  was  i\ieuliima  ratio  Regum  To  such  respondent  as  the 
rimes  then  appointed  unto  him.  the  cannon  peal,  and  the  charg 
ing  yell  of  the  "men  in  grey,"  were  rhe  reply,  which  ro  him 
seemed  eloquent:  all  else  was  emptier  rhan  silence. 

But  instead  of  leading  you  to  a  brief  review  of  his  whole 
career,  which  would  perforce  be  trite,  because  hurried,  I  would 


STONEWALL    JACKSON,  155 

describe  to  you  so-nie  one  of  the  exploits  of  liis  genius,  which 
best  illustrates  it.  One  of  these  I  suppose  to  be  Port  Republic. 
Let  me,  then,  present  it  to  you. 

To  comprehend  the  battle:?  of  Port  Eepublic,  you  must  re- 
call the  events  which  ushered  them  in;  the  defeat  of  Milroy  at 
McDowell  in  the  early  May  of  1802,  that  of  Banks  at  Winches- 
ter; the  concentration  of  Generals  Fremont  and  Shields  towards 
Strasbourg  to  entrap  Jacksan  at  that  place;  his  narrow  escape, 
and  retreat  up  the  great  Valley  to  Harrisonburg.  He  brought 
with  him,  perhaps,  a  force  of  twelve  thousand  men,  footsore 
from  forced  marches,  and  decimated  by  their  ov.n  victories.  ?^o 
more  succors  could  come  to  Jackson  from  the  east;  tlie  coil  of 
the  snake  around  Lee  and  the  Capital  was  becoming  too  close 
for  him  to  assist  others;  and  all  that  the  government  expected 
of  Jackson  was,  to  retreat  indefinitely,  fortunate  if  he  could  at 
once  escape  complete  destruction,  and  detain  the  pursuers  from 
a  concentration  against  Richmond.  Such  was  the  outlook  of 
affairs  upon  the  8th  of  June.  On  the  11th  of  June,  both  the 
pursuers  were  in  full  retreat,  broken  and  shattered,  fleeing  to 
shelter  themselves  near  the  banks  of  the  Potomac,  while  Jack- 
son was  standing  intact,  his  hands  full  of  trophies,  and  ready 
to  turn  to  the  help  of  Lee  in  his  distant  death-grapple  with  Mr- 
Clellan.  Such  was  the  achievement.  Let  us  see  how  his  genius 
wrought  it  out. 

The  skill  of  the  strategist  is  in  availing  himself  of  the  na- 
tural features  of  the  country,  which  may  be  helpful  to  him.  In 
this  case  these  features  were  mainly  the  Blue  Kidge  mountains, 
dividing  the  great  Valley  from  Piedmont,  Virginia;  the  Slien- 
audoah  river,  a  noble  stream  at  all  times,  and  then  everywhere 
uufordable  because  of  its  swolleu  state;  and  the  Great  Valley 
Turnpike,  a  paved  road  extending  parallel  to  the  mountain  and 
river,  from  the  Potomac  to  Staunton.  From  a  point  east  of 
Strasburg  to  another  point  east  of  Harrisonburg  extends  the 
Masanuttin  mountain,  a  ridge  of  fifty  miles  length,  parallel  to 
the  Blue  Ridge,  and  dividing  the  Great  Valley  into  two  val- 
leys. Down  the  eastera  of  these,  usually  called  the  Page-county 
valley,  the  main  river  passes,  down  the  other  passes  the  great 
road.  Up  this  road,  west  of  the  Masanuttin  mountain  was  Jack- 
son now  retreating,  in  his  deliberate,  stubborn  fashion,  while 
Fremont's  18,000  pursued  him.    Up  another  road  parallel,  but 


156  STONEWALL    JACKSON. 

on  the  eastern  side  both  of  that  mountain  and  of  the  main  river, 
marched  Shields,  with  his  8,000  picked  troops.  Neither  had  any 
pontoon  train,  for  Banks  had  burned  his  in  his  impotent  flight 
in  May.  Why  did  nut  Shields,  upon  coming  over  from  the 
Piedmont  to  Front  Koyal,  for  the  }>urpose  of  intercepting  Jack- 
son in  the  lower  valley,  at  once  crof^s  the  Shenandoah  and  place 
himself  in  effectual  concert  with  his  partner.  Fremont?  He 
had  possession  of  a  bridge  at  Fron-t  Royal.  They  were  endeav- 
oring to  practice  a  little  lesson  in  the  art  of  war,  which  they 
fancied  they  had  learned  from  the  great  teacher,  Jackson,  whicn 
they  desired  to  improve,  because  it  was  learned,  as  they  soreiy 
felt,  at  the  cost  of  grievous  stripes,  and  indignities  worse  than 
those  of  the  dunce-block.  But  their  teacher  would  .show  them 
again,  that  they  were  not  yet  instructed  enough  to  descend  from 
that  "bad  eminence."    Let  me  explain  this  first  lesson. 

The  Blue-Ridge,  parallel  to  the  great  Valley  road,  is  pene- 
trated only  at  certain  "gaps,"  by  roads  practicable  for  armies. 
On  the  east  of  it  lay  the  teeming  Piedmont  land,  untouched  by 
ravage  as  yet,  and  looking  towai-ds  the  capital  and  the  main 
army  of  the  Confederacy.  This  mountain,  if  Jackson  chose  to 
resort  to  it,  was  both  his  fastness  and  his  '"base  of  operations"; 
for  the  openings  of  its  gaps  ottered  him  natural  strongholds, 
unassailable  by  an  enemy,  with  free  communication  at  his  rear 
for  drawing  supplies  or  for  retreating.  When  Banks  first  pur- 
sued him  up  the  Valley,  he  had  turned  aside  at  Harrisonburg 
to  the  eastward,  and  seated  himsi'lf  behind  the  river  at  Con 
rad's  Store  in  the  mouth  of  Swift  Run  Gap.  And  then  Banks 
began  to  get  his  first  glimpse  of  his  lesson  in  strategy.  He 
found  that  his  coveted  way  (up  the  great  Valley  road)  7in7s  now 
parallel  to  his    enemy  s  base.  Even  into  his  brain  did  the  in- 

convenience of  such  line  of  advance  now  insinuate  itself,  and 
he  paused  at  Harrisonburg.  Paused  awkv;ardly,  with  the  road 
open  to  his  coveted  prize,  Staunton,  the  strategical  key  of  the 
commonwealth,  with  not  a  man  in  gray  there  to  affright  his 
doughty  pickets:  the  quarry  trembling  for  the  expected  swoop 
of  the  vulture.  Forward,  General  Banks.  Carpe  diem;  the 
road  is  open  I  But  Banks  would  not  forward — could  not  I 
There  was  a  poised  eagle  upon  the  vulture's  flank,  with  talons 
and  beak  ready  to  tear  out  the  vitals  beneath  his  left  wing. 
Shall  Banks  face  to  the  left  and  drag  the  eagle  from  his  aerie, 


STONEWALL    JACKSON.  157 

and  then  advance?  Let  him  try  that.  Then,  there  is  the  water- 
tlood  in  front  to  be  crossed,  only  by  one  long,  narrow  bridge, 
which  would  be  manifestly  a  bridge  of  Lodi,  but  not  with  ob- 
tuse, kraut-consuming  Austrlans  behind  it.  And  there  is  the 
mountain,  opening  its  dread  jaws,  right  and  left,  to  devour  the 
assailant.  Xo.  Banks  cannot  even  try  that!  What  then  shall 
he  try?  Alas,  poor  man,  he  knows  not  what;  he  must  consider, 
sitting  meanwhile  upon  that  most  pleasant  village  of  Harrison- 
burg, amidst  its  green  meadows.  Is  not  the  village  now  his 
verital)le  dume-stool  for  the  time,  where  he  shall  sit,  reluctant, 
uneasy,  "swelling  and  snubbing,"  until  it  appear  whether  he  can 
learn  his  horn-book  or  not?  And  it  was  while  he  was  there 
sitting,  the  horn-book  not  mastered,  that  Jackson  like  the  tor- 
nado, made  his  first  astounding  gyration,  his  first  thunder-clap 
at  McDowell,  away  on  the  western  mountain,  his  second  echo- 
ing to  it  from  Front  Royal  on  the  far  east,  his  crowning,  rend- 
ing crash  at  Winchester.  And  Masters  Banks  and  Shields  find 
themselves  with  incomprehensible  smoke  and  dust,  clean  out- 
side the  school-room,  yea,  the  play-ground,  they  scarcely  know 
how  (they  "sto  )d  not  on  the  order  of  their  going"),  with  eyes 
very  widely  glaring,  yet  with  but  little  light  of  speculation  in 
them. 

This  was  lesson  number  first.  And  now  say  my  masters  to 
each  other,  ^'This  lesson  which  cost  us  so  dear,  learned  by  buffet- 
ings  so  rude,  yea,  even  kicks,  with  the  bitter  chorus  of  inex- 
tinguishable laughter  of  rivals,  shall  we  not  profit  by  it?  Shall 
we  not  use  it  in  our  turn?  Yea,  we  will  not  be  always  dunces: 
we  will  let  people  see  that  we  can  say,  at  least,  that  lesson 
again.  The  lion  will  retreat  surlily,  after  he  brake  the  toils  at 
Strasburg,  up  the  great  Valley  road,  growling  defiance,  huge 
ribs  of  the  prey  between  his  jaws.  Fremont  shall  closely  pur- 
sue his  rear  with  IS.OOO.  and  Shields  shall  advance  abreast,  be- 
tween him  and  the  mountain,  with  S,0()(),  to  head  him  off  from 
his  rock-fastness.  We  shall  circumvent  him  in  the  open  field; 
we  shall  confound  him  on  the  right  hand  and  the  left;  the  one 
shall  amuse  him  in  front,  when  he  stands  at  bay,  and  the  other 
shall  smite  him  by  guile  under  the  ribs;  and  we  shall  take  his 
spoils.''  And,  therefore,  it  was  that  Shields  crossed  not  the 
river  below,  at  Strasburg,  but  remained  apart  from  his  mate. 

They  forgot  that  it  is  the  prerogative  of  genius,  to  have  no 


I'^^S  STONEWALL    JACKSON". 

need  to  repeat  itself;  its  resources  are  ever  new;  it  can  invent, 
can  create  upon  occasion.  It  is  dull  dunce-hood,  whick  only 
knows  how  to  repeat  the  lesson  that  has  been  well  beaten  into 
it.  The  Southern  Lion,  then,  marches  surlily  up  the  great  Val- 
ley, turning  at  bay  here  and  there,  when  the  whelps  dog  his 
heels  too  insolently,  with  a  glare  and  a  growl  instructive  to 
them  to  observe  a  wholesome  interval;  while  Ashby,  ubiqui- 
tious,  peers  everywhere  over  the  Masanuttin,  upon  the  advance 
of  Shields — burns  bridge  after  bridge,  Mount  Jackson  bridge. 
White  House  bridge,  Columbia  bridge,  entailing  continued  in- 
sulation upon  him.  The  mighty  hunt  reaches  Harrisonburg. 
Will  it  turn  again  eastw^ard  to  the  mountain?  Shields  shall 
see,  he  reaches  Conrad's  store.  There  is  the  old  lair,  the  muni- 
tion of  rocks,  but  no  Jackson  seeking  t3  crouch  in  it;  only  the 
bridge  leading  to  it  (and  which  alone  could  lead' him  out  of  it), 
just  in  flames.  Evidently  Jackson  will  teach  some  other  les- 
son this  time,  and  Shields  and  Fremont  must  learn  it.  at  what 
cost  they  may.  He  will  turn  ea7>tward  again,  and  resort  tD  the 
river  and  the  mountains,  whose  floods  and  forests  he  will  make 
light  for  him,  even  as  "the  stars  in  their  courses  fought  against 
Sisera,"'  but  under  conditions  wholly  novel. 

Now  that  you  may  comprehend  Jackson,  I  must  endeavor 
to  make  you  see  this  region  of  Port  Republic,  as  nearly  as  may 
be.  Behold  then  the  side  road  from  Harrisonburg  to  that  til- 
lage, passing  over  sundry  miles  of  those  high  hills,  common  to 
calcareous  regions,  (lofty  as  the  highest  viewed  from  the  north- 
ernmost end  of  your  Druid  Hill  Park),  mostly  parallel  to  each 
other,  and  at  right  angles  to  the  road,  clad  also  frequently  with 
woodlands  upon  their  summits,  the  vales  between  filled  with 
farms.  Close  at  the  foot  of  the  last  of  these  ridges  flows  the 
shining  river,  here  running  almost  due  east,  as  does  the  great 
mountain  parallel  to  it,  three  miles  away.  Look  thitherward, 
and  between  you  and  that  green  rampart  you  see,  first  the  water, 
then  smooth  meadows  far  below  you,  spreading  wider  to  the 
left,  away  to  Lewiston,  until  their  breadth  expands  almost  to  a 
mile;  while  underneath  you  stretches  the  long  bridge,  and  nest- 
les the  white  village  amidst  the  level  fields.  Beyond,  the  forest 
begins,  thick,  tangled  and  bosky,  pierced  by  more  narrow,  ser- 
pentine, but  easy  roadways,  than  your  eye  would  suspect,  and 
spreads  away,  rising  into  hills  as  it  recedes  towards  the  true 


STONEWALL    JACKSON.  159 

mountain  foot.  Just  below  the  village  comes  a  sparkling  tribu- 
tary, South  river,  deemed  scarcely  worthy  of  a  bridge,  and  min- 
gles its  waters  at  the  angle  of  the  little  green  with  its  elder  sis- 
ter; while  the  one  broad  thoroughfare  leads  up  the  village  and 
away  to  the  southwest  to  Staunton;  and  the  other,  fording  the 
lesser  stream  to  the  left,  plunges  into  the  forest  to  seek  Brown's 
Gap.  Look  now,  far  away  to  the  east,  where  river  and  moun- 
tain begin  to  lose  themselves  in  the  summer  haze.  You  per- 
ceive that  the  tangled  wilderness,  after  embaying  one  more 
modest  farm  below  Lewiston,  closes  in  upon  the  bank  of  the 
stream,  ending  for  many  miles,  champaign  and  tillage,  and  al- 
lowing but  one  narrow  highway  to  Conrad's  Store,  fifteen  miles 
away.  Such  is  your  landscape  from  your  elevated  outlook 
northwest  of  the  river;  and  this  is  the  chess-board  upon  which 
the  master  hand  is  to  move  knights  and -castles,  not  Ms  own 
merely,  but  also  his  adversary's. 

Saturday,  the  7th  of  June,  Jackson  led  all  his  troops  to 
those  high  hills  northwest  of  the  river,  posting  half  of  them 
three  miles  back,  under  Ewell,  to  confront  Fremont,  and  the  re- 
mainder upon  the  heights  overlooking  Port  Republic,  while  he 
himself  crossed  the  bridge  and  lodged  in  that  village.  That 
evening  Fremont  sat  down  before  Powell,  and  Shields,  perceiv- 
ing that  he  must  seek  Jackson  still  farther,  pushed  Ins  army  up 
the  narrow  forest  road  from  Conrad's  Store,  and  showed  its 
head  at  Lewiston.  Thus,  Jackson's  army  and  Fremont's  w^ere 
upon  the  one  side  of  the  river,  Shield's  and  the  village  upon  the 
other.  To  cross  it  there  remained  now  but  the  one  passage, 
which  lay  under  the  muy^zles  of  Jackson'is  cannon,  for  all  the 
bridges  above  and  below  had  been  burned. 

Fremont  and  Shields  would  now,  therefore,  apply  the  old 
strategy,  which  red  tape  once  deemed  appropriate  for  the  super- 
ior numbers.  They  would  surround  Jackson  on  sundry  sides, 
with  divided  forces,  from  different  directions,  and  thus  crush 
him.  The  lessons  of  the  old  Napoleon  had  not  been  enough  to 
teach  them;  this  new  Virginian  Napoleon  will,  perhaps,  illum- 
inate their  obtuseness,  but  with  light  too  sulpliurous  for  their 
delectation.  This  old  plan,  attempted  against  a  wakeful  and 
rapid  adversary,  ca})ablc  of  striking  successive^  blows,  only  in- 
vites him  "to  divide  and  cdnqucr."  This  Jackson  will  now  Icai-li 
them  in  his  own  time,  and  it  shall    be   lesson   humbei'   second. 


160  STONEWALL    JACKSON. 

They  shall  uever  strike  rogether;  iiay,  Shields  shall  never  strike 
at  all.  but  he  stricken:  thus  hath  the  master  of  the  game  al- 
ready decided. 

Shall  Jackson,  then,  hold  Shields  at  arms'  length,  and 
strike  the  larger  prey,  P"'remout.  first?  This  the  impassable 
river  and  the  dominant  position  of  his  artillery  overlooking  the 
bridge,  enabled  him  to  do.  He  might  have  driven  back 
Shields's  co-operative  advance  in  the  meadows  beneath,  by  a 
storm  of  shells,  while  he  assailed  liis  partner  three  miles  away; 
and  Shields  might  have  beguiled  the  day,  by  looking  helplessly 
over  at  the  smoke  surging  up  over  the  tree-taps,  and  listening  to 
the  thunder  of  the  battle  rolling  back  to  Harrisonburg  with 
Fremont's  defeat;  or,  by  reckoning  when  his  own  time  would 
come,  if  that  better  pleased  him.  Shall  Jackson,  then,  strike 
Fremont  fir-st?  "^Yes,"  said  Ewell:  ''Strike  the  larger  game 
Urst."  But  Jackson  said,  "Xo.  The  risk  is  less  to  deal  first 
with  the  weaker.  In  a  battle  with  Shields,  should  disaster  per- 
cliaiur  befall  us.  we  shall  be  near  our  trains,  and  our  way  of 
retreat;  and  true  courage,  however  much  prudent  audacity  it 
may  venture,  never  boasts  itself  invulnerable.  But  if  an  in- 
auspicious attack  were  made  on  Fremont,  the  defeated  Con- 
federates would  have  i)ehind  them  a  deep  river,  to  be  crossed 
only  by  one  narrow  bridge,  and  a  line  of  retreat  threatened  by 
Shields's  unbroken  force.  Again,  Shields  defeated,  had  but 
one  difficult  and  narrow  line  of  retreat,  between  the  Hood  and 
the  mountain,  and  might  be  probably  destw»yed.  Fremont,  if 
defeated,  had  an  open  country  and  many  roads  by  which  to  re- 
tire; and  could  not  be  far  pursued,  with  Shields's  force  still  un- 
broken threatening  our  rear."  Thus  argued  Jaclcson,  but  only 
to  himself,  then;  he  was  wont  to  give  no  account  of  his  meas- 
ures to  others. 

Shall  Jackson,  then,  pre})are  to  deal  with  his  weaker  adver- 
sary, by  withdiawing  all  his  arms  to  the  Southern  side,  burn- 
ing the  bridge  behind  him.  and  iluis  leaving  Fremont  an  idle 
spectator  of  Shields's  overthrow?  Again,  Xo;  and  for  two  rea- 
sons: First,  this  would  permit  Fremont  to  crown  all  those 
dominating  heights  on  the  north  side,  with  his  artillery,  so  that 
Shields,  though  still  sejiarated  from  his  friends  by  the  water, 
miglit  enjoy  the  etfectual  shelter  of  their  guns.  And  second, 
supposing  Shields  dealt  with  satisfactorily,  then  it  might  be 


STONEWALL    JACKSON.  161 

desired  to  pay  the  same  polite  attentions  to  Fremont;  and  Jack- 
son meant  not  to  de[>rive  himself  t:)o  soon  of  the  means  of  ac- 
cess to  him.  Shields,  then,  shall  be  tirst  attended  to,  on  the 
south  side;  but  yet  the  bridge  not  destroyed,  nor  the  heights  be- 
yond surrendered. 


Paper  No.  2. 


(Conclusion. 


This  ])Ian,  then,  is  clear  even  to  the  civic  apiii'ehcnsion,  as 
ottering  fewest  risks  and  largest  ])r()mise — in  a  word,  the  per- 
fection of  sagacity;  and  witli  s)  many  men  in  gray  as  might 
matcli  two-fold  numbers  of  enemies  (odds  ratlier  favorable,  if 
not  light  and  trivial,  compared  with  the  customary),  it  seems  to 
promise  safely.  Perhaps  some  may  even  say  that  these  reason- 
ings are  clear  and  just,  even  too  much  so  to  imply  peculiar 
genius  in  Jackson.  Remember,  friend,  Columbus  and  his  egg. 
Jackson's  performance  hath  illustrated  this  problem  for  you, 
made  it  all  plain,  which  to  him  was  all  novel,  urgent,  and  to 
have  its  right  soluti:)n  by  him  alone  invented,  then  and  there, 
under  pressure  of  dire  responsibility  and  penalty  :)f  portentious 
ruin  and  numifold  destruction.  Tlipse,  friend,  thou  wouhlst  not 
have  found  propitious  or  helpful  for  clear  meditation  and  judg- 
ment the  night  of  that  7th  of  June.  Jielieve  me,  the  pi-oblem 
did  not  then  seem  easy,  or  even  soluble  to  us,  as  men  whispered 
by  the  watch-fires,  with  bated  brt^ath:  "Jackson  is  surrounded.'' 
Our  eyes,  then  beclouded  witli  appiehtmsion,  confused,  saw  no 
light;  but  he,  clear-eyed  and  s('i-en(\  with  genius  braced  by  his 
steadfast  heart  and  devout  faith,  saw  all  possibilities,  and 
whence  deliverance  might  dawn  out  of  seeming  darkness.  And 
these  two  chiefest  ti-aits  of  greatness  I  recognized  in  Jackson 
through  these  transactions:  First,  that  urgent  and  critical 
peril  did  not  agitate  nor  confuse  his  reason,  nor  make  him  hang 
vacillating,  uneasy  and  impotent  to  decide  between  the  alterna- 
tives, but  only  nerved  and  steadied  his  faculties;  that  he  ever 
thought  best  where  other  men  could  least  think.  Second,  that 
he  knew  how  to  distinguish  the  decisive  [wints  from  the  un- 
essential, and,  grasping  tlutse  with  ircm  strength,  to  form  from 
tliem  an  iutlexihle  conclusion. 


162  STONEWALL    JACKSON. 

Events,  then,  had  showed  Jacksoii  these  things  by  the  close 
of  Saturday,  June  the  7th.  Why  did  he  delay  to  strike  this 
time,  so  unlike  his  wont?  The  8th  was  ''the  Sabbath  of  the 
Lord,"  which  he  would  fain  honor  always,  if  the  wicked  would 
let  him.  Not  by  him  should  the  sanctity  and  repose  of  that 
bright,  calm  Sabbath  be  broken.  When  I  went  to  him  early, 
saying,  "I  suppose,  General,  divine  service  is  out  of  the  question 
to-day?"  his  reply  was,  "Oh,  by  no  means;  I  hope  you  will 
preach  in  the  Stonewall  Brigade,  and  I  shall  attend  myself — 
that  is,  if  we  are  not  disturbed  by  the  enemy."  Thus  I  retired, 
to  doflf  the  gray  for  the  time  and  don  the  parson's  black.  But 
those  enemies  cherished  no  such  reverence.  As  at  the  first 
Manassas,  and  so  many  other  pitched  battles,  they  selected  the 
holy  day  for  an  unholy  deed.  They  supposed  that  the  toils  were 
closed  again  around  the  prey,  and  w^ere  eager  to  win  the  spoils 
before  they  escaped  them.  Shields,  then,  imoves  first  to  strike 
Jackson's  rear,  a  detachment  of  cavalry,  v^ith  two  cannon  in 
front,  who  sweep  away  the  pickets  witli  a  sudden  rush,  dash 
pell-mell  across  the  lesser  river,  into  the  street,  almost  as  soon 
as  the  fugitives  who  would  tell  their  coming.  Then  is  there  at 
headquarters  mad  haste,  Jackson  leaping  into  the  saddle  and 
galloping  (the  pass  even  now  scarcely  open)  for  the  bridge  and 
his  army;  Statf  fiollowing  as  they  may;  one  and  another  too  late 
(as  Colonel  Crutchfield,  our  Chief  of  Artillery),  and  captured  in 
mid  street;  a  few  yet,  more  too  late,  and  wholly  unable  to  fol- 
low; I,  of  course,  again  doffing  the  black  to  don  the  gray,  among 
these  last.  Right  briskly  did  those  invaders  (bold,  quick  men, 
for  Yankees),  occupy  the  village,  plant  cannon  at  each  end  of  it, 
spy  out  Jackson's  trains,  and  begin  to  reach  forth  the  hand  to 
grasp  them,  while  we,  cut  off  and  almost  powerless,  make  such 
resistance  as  we  may.  Haste  thee.  Master  Sliields.  "What  thou 
doest  do  quickly!"  forNEMESisis  coming,  and  thy  time  is  short 
— too  short,  alas!  for  Shields,  for  mortal  man;  for  lo!  yonder, 
one  hath  clattered  through  the  bridge,  and  bounding  up  the 
heights  where  the  forces  lay,  pressed  his  steed  with  burning 
spurs,  Ills  visage  all  aglow  and  blue  eye  blazing,  and  shouts: 
"Beat  the  Long  Roll!"  Drums  roll  with  palpitating  throb;  men 
spring  to  the  ranks,  cannoneers  harness;  and  ere  Shields  can 
brush  away  the  flimsy  obstacles  between  him  and  the  trains,  al- 
ready Jackson  conies  streaming  back  with  Poague's  battery  and 


STONEWALL    JACKSON.  163 

Fulkersou's  tall  riflemen — streamiii<i'  down  tlic  hill,  :i  ll,isliiii>; 
Torrent.  There  is  one  crash  of  thunder,  n\e  rin^iu<;-  vollev,  one 
wild  yell;  the  bayonets  gleam  througli  the  shadowy  cavern  of 
the  bridge,  and  the  thing  is  done.  Hostile  cannon  lie  disabled, 
horses  weltering  around  them  in  blood;  intruders  flee  pell-mell, 
splashing  through  the  stream,  whither  they  came;  while  Jack- 
son stands  alone,  aver  on  the  green  hillside,  still,  calm,  and  rev- 
erent, his  hand  lifted  in  prayer  and  thanksgiving  that  the  village 
is  won  again.  But  it  is  only  for  a  moment,  for  he  knows  what 
more  remains  to  be  done.  He  remounrs  the  heights,  and  there, 
sure  enough,  is  Shields's  army  advancing  up  rlic  meadows  from 
Lewiston,  ranks  dressed,  banners  flying,  in  all  the  bravery  of 
their  pamp.  Jackson  utters  a  few  quiet  words,  and  Poague  a 
guns,  reinforced  by  others,  remove  to  the  next  hill,  depress  their 
grim  muzzles,  and  rain  down  an  iron  storm  across  the  river, 
which  lashes  Shields  back  to  his  covert. 

Jackson  trusted  Providences  and  here  Providence  took  care 
of  him  in  a  most  timely  way.  Our  Colonel  Crutchfield,  detained 
amidst  his  captors  in  the  village  street,  shall  tell  how  the  inter- 
vention looked  from  his  point  of  view.  The  cavalry  Colonel  com- 
manding Shields's  advance  had  only  just  disarmed  him,  when  a 
Yankee  vidette,  wha  had  ventured  a  little  up  the  Staunton 
Road,  came  hurrying  back,  his  eyes  glaring  with  elation,  and  ex- 
claimed: "Colonel  Carrell!  you  have  as  good  as  got  Jackson's 
trains;  they  are  right  above  here,  in  sight;  I  have  seen  thous- 
ands of  the  white  wagon-covers  shining!  You  have  nothing  to 
da  but  ride  forward  and  take  them'."  "Yes!"  avouched  Crutch- 
field's  despairing  thought,  "he  has  them!  There  are  no  train- 
guards,  and  those  white  sheets,  as  I  wofully  know,  are  the  cov- 
ers of  my  ordnance-train,  c antaining  all  tlie  artillery  ammuni- 
tion and  most  of  the  other  for  the  whole  army.  Colonel  Carrell 
may  not  remain  heie  permanently,  but  nathing  can  prevent  his 
riding  thither  and  doing  irreparable  mischief  before  Jackson's 
return." 

Such  was  also  the  Yankee's  thought,  for  he  immediately  or- 
dered a  strong  squadron  of  his  cavalry  to  go  uj)  and  cajiture 
those  trains.  So  the  horsemen  formed  in  c  »lumn  and  advanced 
up  the  street,  leaving  Colonel  Crutchfield  in  silent  des[tair.  liut 
near  the  head  of  that  street  they  were  met  by  a  discharge  of  can- 
ister at  close  quarters.     The  balls  came  ricocheting  down  the 


164  STONEWALL    JACKSON. 

road  amidst  tlie  liorses"  lejis,  and  back  caiue  the  coluiim  in  head 
long  tiight,  with  a  tempest  of  dust.  Said  Crutchfield's  thoughts 
to  him:  "Did  those  cannons  drop  from  the  slcies?  Did  the  an- 
gels fire  them?  I  tliought  I  was  artillery-chief  to  that  army,  and 
had  posted  all  the  guns,  and  I  thought  I  knew  tliat  there  was  no 
artillery  there."  Kut  none  the  less  did  the  mystenous  guns  hold 
their  post,  despite  the  cannonading  of  the  Yankee  batteryaccom- 
panj'ing  their  advance;  and  whenever  the  attacking  column  of 
cavalry  was  advanced,  lash  it  back  to  the  side-alleys  with  canis- 
ter-shot until  Jackson  re-occupied  the  village. 

The  explanation  was  that  there  was  a  new  battery,  that  of 
Captain  Carrington,  of  Albemarle,  just  arrived,  which  Colonel 
Crutchfield  had  found  so  partially  equipped  and  so  absolutely 
unskilled,  that  he  had  relegated  it  with  the  baggage,  and  thus 
had  actually  discounted  it  in  his  mind  as  anything  more  tlian 
baggage.  Two  guns  of  this  battery  had  been  brought  forward, 
with  fragments  of  the  fleeing  Confederate  pickets  for  supports, 
and  with  that  audacity  which,  as  Jackson  taught,  was  on  some 
occasions  the  most  timely  discretion,  had  made  its  little  fight 
and  saved  the  trains. 

But  now  the  cannonade  answers  back  from  Cross-Keys, 
where  Fremont  crowds  upon  Ewell,  endeavoring  to  keep  his 
part  of  the  rendezvous.  How  the  fight  raged  there  through  the 
day,  while  Jackson  vibrated  thither  and  back,  watchful  of  all 
points,  I  need  not  detain  you  to  relate;  for  your  history-books 
may  tell  you  all  this,  as  also  how  Ewell  hurled  back  his  adver- 
sary, and  held  his  own  stoutly  at  all  points.  One  little  thing  I 
may  relate,  not  flattering  to  myself,  which  may  be  to  you  a  reve- 
lation of  Jackson's  mind,  (and  may  also  be  taken  as  an  example 
of  the  scant  encouragement  which  suggestions  from  subordin- 
ates usually  met).  As  he  sat  upon  his  horse,  scanning  the  re- 
gion whither  Shields  had  retired,  I  moved  to  his  side  and 
asked:  ''There  is,  then,  a  general  action  at  Cross-Keys?"  The 
answer  was  an  affirmative  nod.  "Then  General  Shields  will  not 
be  blind  to  the  impin-tance  of  his  co-operating  in  it;  he  will  sure- 
ly attack  you  again  to-day?"  Hereupon  he  turned  upon  me.  as 
though  vexed  with  my  obtuseness,  with  brows  knit,  and  waving 
his  clenched  fist  towards  the  commanding  positions  of  the  artil- 
lerv  near  him.  said:  "No.  sir;  he  cannot  do  it,  sir.  I  should  tear 
Mm  to  pieces!"  And  Shields  did  not  do  it,  because  he  could 
not! 


STONEWALL    JACKSON.  165 

The  two  Yankee  Generals  have  now  had  their  forwardness 
a  little  rebuked;  are  taught  to  keep  their  places  quietly  until 
they  are  wanted.  The  Sabbath-eve  has  descended  as  calmly  as 
though  no  blood  or  crime  had  polluted  it,  and  Jackson  has  rest- 
ed until  the  mid-night  hour  ushers  in  the  working  day  with  a 
waning  moon.  He  then  addresses  himself  t'o  his  work  and 
takes  the  aggressive.  The  trains  are  sent  over  to  Powell  to  carry 
rations  to  his  hungry  men  and  to  replenish  the  guns  with  their 
horrid  food;  a  foot  bridge  is  prepared  for  the  infantry  over 
South  river,  by  which  they  may  be  passed  towards  Lewiston. 
Ewell  is  directed  to  creep  away  at  daybreak,  from  Fremont's 
front,  leaving  only  a  skirmish  line  to  amuse  him,  and  to  concen- 
trate against  Shields.  Colonel  Pattou,  one  of  the  two  com- 
manders wIdo  are  to  lead  this  line,  is  sent  for  to  receive  his  per- 
sonal instructions  from  Jackson.  "I  found  him,"  says  Colonel 
Patton,  "in  the  small  hours  of  the  night,  erect,  and  elate  with 
animation  and  pleasure.  He  began  by  saying:  'I  am  going  to 
fight.  Yes,  we  shall  engage  Shields  this  morning  at  sunrise. 
Now,  I  wish  you  to  throw  out  all  yjur  men  before  Fremont  as 
skirmishers,  and  to  make  a  great  show,  so  as  to  cause  the  enemy 
to  think  the  whole  army  are  behind  you.  Hold  your  position 
as  well  as  you  can;  then  fall  back  when  obliged;  take  a  new  po- 
sition; hold  it  in  the  same  way,  and  I  will  be  back  to  join  you  in 
the  morning.'  "  Colonel  Patton  ren)inded  him  that  his  brigade 
was  small,  and  that  the  countiy  between  Cross-Keys  and  the 
Shenandoah  afforded  few  natural  advantages  for  protecting 
such  manoeuvres.  He  therefore  desired  to  ku'ow  for  how  long 
a  time  he  would  be  expected  to  hold  Fremont  in  check.  He  re- 
plied: '"By  the  blessing  of  Providence,  I  hope  to  ibe  back  by  ten 
o'clock.'" 

Here  then  we  have  the  disclosure  of  his  real  plan  to  which 
he  makes  no  reference  in  his  own  otficial  report.  He  proposed 
to  finish  with  Shields,  peradveuture  to  finish  Shields,  by  ten 
o'clock.  P^ive  hours  should  be  enough  to  settle^«  accdunt,  and 
he  would  then  go  straight  back  to  see  after  P^remont.  \\y  ten 
o'clock  of  the  same  day  he  would  meet  his  retreating  skirmish 
lin(^  north  of  the  river,  arrest  the  retrograde  UKtvenu-nt  and  be 
ready,  if  Fremont  had  stomach  for  it,  to  tight  a  second  pitched 
battle  with  his  army,  more  than  double  the  one  vanquished  in 
the  morning.    As  to  the  measure  of  Shield's  disaster,  it  was  to 


166  STONEWALL  JACKSON. 

be  complete;  dispersion  and  caprure  of  his  whole  force,  with  all 
his  material.  As  Napoleon  curtly  said  at  the  battle  of  Rivoli, 
concerning  the  Austrian  division  detached  around  the  mounrain 
to  beset  his  rear:  "//j-  sont a  nous;"  so  it  seems  had  Jackson 
decreed  of  Shields's  men:  "They  belong  to  us."  This  the  whole 
disposition  of  his  battle  clearly  discloses.  I  hare  described  to 
you  the  position  which  Shields  had  assumed  at  Lewiston,  with 
his  line  stretching  from  the  forest  to  the  river.  Behind  him 
were  a  few  more  smooth  and  open  fields;  and  then  the  wilder- 
ness closed  in  to  the  river,  tangled  and  trackless,  overlooking 
the  position  of  the  Federal  line  in  height,  and  ali)wing  but  one 
narrow  track  to  the  rear.  It  was  a  true  funnel — almost  a  cul de 
sac.  These  then,  were  Jackson's  dispositions.  (General  Kich- 
ard  Taylor,  with  his  Louisiana  Itrigade.  accompanied  by  a  bat- 
tery of  artillery,  was  to  jdunge  into  the  woods  by  th  )se  tortuous 
tracks  which  I  have  mentioned,  to  creep  through  the  labyrinths, 
avoiding  all  disturbance  of  the  enemy,  until  he  had  passed  clear 
beyond  his  left,  was  to  enfilade  his  short  and  crowded  line,  was 
to  find  position  for  his  battery  on  some  commanding  hillock  at 
the  edge  of  the  copsewood,  and  w^as  to  control  the  narrow  road 
which  offered  the  only  line  of  retreat.  The  Stonewall  brigade 
was  to  amuse  the  enemy  meantime,  in  fruit,  until  these  fatal 
adjustments  were  made,  when  the  main  weight  of  the  army 
should  crowd  upon  them,  and  the}'  should  be  driven  back  upon 
the  impassible  river,  hemmed  in  from  their  retreat,  cannonaded 
from  superior  positions,  ground,  in  short,  between  the  uj/per 
and  nether  millstones,  dissipated  and  captured.  This  was  the 
moraing's  meal  with  which  Jacks  in  would  break  his  fast.  Then, 
for  his  afternoon  work,  he  designed  to  re-occupy  his  formidable 
position  in  front  of  Fremont  upon  the  north  of  the  river,  and 
either  fight  and  win  another  battle  the  same  day,  or  postpone 
the  coup  de  grace  to  his  second  adversaiy  until  the  next  morn- 
ing, as  circumstances  might  dictate. 

Such  was  the  splendid  audacity  of  Jackson's  real  design. 
Only  a  part  of  it  was  accomplished;  you  may  infer  that  only  a 
part  of  it  was  feasible,  and  tliat  the  design  was  too  audacious 
to  be  all  realized.  I  do  not  think  so;  only  two  trivial  circum- 
stances prevented  the  actual  realization  of  the  whole.  When 
the  main  weight  of  the  Confederate  army  was  thrown  against 
Shields  he  was  crushed  (though  not  captured)  in  the  space  of 


STOTSTEWALL    JACKSON.  167 

two  hours.  Again,  Fremont  had  been,  on  the  previous  day,  so 
rou^i^hly  handled  by  Ewell,  with  six  thousand  men,  that  he  did 
not  venture  even  to  feel  the  Confederate  positron,  guarded  real- 
ly only  by  a  skirmish  line,  until  ten  o'clock  the  next  day,  and 
such  was  his  ovrn  apprehension  of  his  weakness,  that  as  soon  as 
he  learned  Shields's  disaster  definitely,  he  retreated  with  haste, 
even  though  there  was  now  no  bridge  by  which  Jackson  might 
reach  him.  Why  then  a  performance  so  short  of  the  magnifi- 
cent conception?  The  answer  was  in  two  little  circumstances. 
The  guide  who  thought  he  knew  the  paths  by  which  to  lead  Gen- 
eral Taylor  to  the  enemy's  rear  (a  professional  offlcer  of  the  en- 
gineers) did  not  know;  he  became  confused  in  the  labyrinth;  he 
led  out  the  head  of  the  column  unexpectedly  in  front  of  instead 
of  bej'ond  their  left,  and  General  Taylor  concluded  he  had  no 
choice  but  to  hold  his  ground  and  precipitate  the  attack.  That 
was  blunder  first;  a  little  one  seemingly,  but  pregnant  with  dis- 
appointment. And  here  let  me  remark  upon  a  mischievous 
specimen  of  red-tapeism,  which  I  saw  often  practiced  to  our  det- 
riment, even  sometimes  by  Jackson,  who  was  least  bound  by 
professional  trammels.  It  was  the  employing  of  engineer  offi- 
cers, with  their  pocket  compasses  and  ijretty,  red  and  blue  cray- 
on, hypotlietical  maps,  as  country  guides;  instead  of  the  men 
of  the  vicinage  witli  local  knowledge.  Far  better  would  it  have 
been  for  Jackson  had  he  now  inquired  among  Ashby's  troopers 
for  the  boy  who  had  hunted  foxes  and  rabbits  through  the 
coppices  around  Lewiston.  Him  should  he  have  set  to  guide 
Taylor's  brigade  to  the  enemy's  rear,  with  a  Captain's  com- 
mission before  him  if  he  guided  it  to  victory,  and  a  pistol's 
muzzle  behind  his  left  ear  in  case  he  i)layed  false. 

The  other  blunder  was,  in  appearance,  even  more  trivial: 
The  footbridge,  constructed  'by  moonlight,  and  designed  to 
pass  four  men  abreast,  proved  at  one  point  so  unsteady'  that 
only  a  single  plank  of  it  could  be  safely  used.  Tlius,  what  was 
designed  to  be  a  mas^^ive  column  was  reduced  from  that  point 
onward  to  a  straggling  ''Indian  file."  Instead  of  passing  over 
the  infanti'y  in  the  early  morning,  we  were  still  urging  them 
forward  when  the  appointed  ten  o'clock  had  come  and  gone, 
and  the  first  attack  on  Shields,  made  with  forces  wholly  in- 
adequate, had  met  with  a  bloody  repulse.  Jackson,  burning 
with  eagerness,  had  flown  to  the  frcmt  as  soon  as  the  Stone- 


168  STONEWALL  JACKSON. 

wall  bi'ijiade  was  passed  over,  leaviii<>;-  to  nie  a  strict  iiijmicti(»n 
to  lemaiu  at  the  bridge  and  expedite  the  crossing  of  the  oth- 
er troops.  First  the  returning  trains,  mingled  in  almost  inex- 
tricable confusion  with  the  marching  column,  was  to  be  disen- 
tangled, amidsr  iiinch  wrong-headedness  of  little  Q.  M.'s 
swollen  with  a  mite  of  brief  authority.  This  effectually  done; 
the  defect  of  the  bridge  disclosed  itself.  Can  it  not  be  speed- 
ily remedied?  No;  not  wirhour  a  total  arrest  of  the  living 
stream,  which  none  dared  to  order.  Then  began  I  to  suggest, 
to  advise,  to  urge,  that  the  bridge  be  disused  wholly  and  that 
the  men  take  to  the  water  en  masse  (kindly  June  waterj.  For 
altlijugh  it  was  Jackson's  wont  to  enlighten  none  as  to  his 
plans;  yet  even  my  inexperienced  ear  was  taught  by  the  can- 
non thundering  at  Lewiston,  that  we  should  all  have  been,  ere 
this,,  there;  not  pothering /i(jr<;,  in  straggling  Indian  tile,  ^^'ell 
did  I  know  how  Jackson's  soul  at  that  hcjur  would  avDUch  that 
word  of  Xai)oleon:  ''Ask  me  for  anything  but  tinie^''  But  no: 
"Generals  had  their  orders:  to  march  by  the  bridge."  "They 
would  usurp  no  discretion."  I'unctilious  obedient  men  they! 
"keeping  the  word  of  ])r()mise  to  the  ears,  but  breaking  it  to 
the  sense."  ^^'ell.  in  such  fashion  was  the  golden  opporttmity 
lost;  and  Jackson,  at  uiid-day.  instead  of  returning  victorious 
to  confront  Fremont,  must  send  word  to  his  skirmisli  line,  to 
come  aw^ay  and  ]»nni  the  bridge  l)eliind  them,  while  he  rein- 
forces liis  battle  against  Shields  and  crushes  down  his  stubborn 
(yea  right  gallant)  resistance,  with  stern  decision.  Thus  he 
must  content  himself  with  one  vict(u-y  instead  of  two,  and  in 
that  one,  chase  his  enemy  away  like  a  baffled  wolf  instead  of 
ensnaring  him  wiiolly  and  drawing  his  fangs. 

Who  can  hear  this  story  of  victory  thus  organized  and  al- 
most within  the  grasp — victory  wliich  should  have  been  more 
splendid  than  Marengo — so  shorn  of  half  its  rays,  without  feel- 
ing a  pungent,  burning,  sympathetic  disappointment"?  Did  not 
such  a  will  as  Jacks(m's  then  surge  like  a  volcano  at  this  de- 
fault? No.  There  was  no  fury  chafing  against  the  miscarriage, 
no  discontent,  uo  rebuke.  Calm  and  contented,  Jackson  rode 
back  from  the  i»ui-suit  and  devoted  himself  to  the  care  of  the 
wounded  and  to  prudent  precautions  for  protectioii.  '"God did 
it.''''  That  was  his  philosophy.  There  is  an  omniscient  Mind 
which  purposes,  an  ever  present  Providence  which  superin- 


STONEWALL    JACKSON.  169 

tends;  so  that  when  rlie  eveut  has  finally  disclosed  his  will,  the 
iijod  man  has  fonnd  onr  what  is  best.  He  did  not  know  it 
before,  and  therefoie  he  followed,  with  all  his  might,  the  best 
lights  of  his  own  inipeifect  reason;  but  now  that  (lad  has 
told  him.  by  the  issne,  it  is  his  part  to  stndy  aeqniesrenc-e — 
Such  was  "Stonewall  Jackson's  way." 

This,  my  friends,  is  a  bright  dream,  but  it  is  passed  awa.y. 
Jackson  is  gone,  and  the  cause  is  gone.  All  the  victories  which 
he  won  are  lost  again.  The  penalty  we  pay  for  tlie  pleasure  of 
the  dream  is  the  pain  jf  the  awakening.  I  profess  unto  von 
tliat  one  of  the  most  consoling  thoughts  which  remain  to  me 
amidst  the  waking  realties  of  the  ijresent,  is  this:  that  Jack- 
son and  other  spirits  like  him  are  spared  the  defeat.  I  find 
that  many  minds  sympathize  with  me  in  the  species  of  awful 
curiosity  to  know  what  Jackson  would  Itave  d.ine  at  our  final 
surrender.  It  is  a  strange,  a  startling  conjunction  of  thoughts: 
Jackson,  with  his  giant  will,  his  unblenching  faith,  his  heroic 
devotion,  face  to  face,  after  all,  with  the  lost  cause!  What 
would  he  have  djne?  This  questiiui  has  been  often  asked  me, 
and  my  answer  has  always  been:  In  no  event  could  Jackson 
have  survived  to  see  the  cause  lost.  What,  you  say:  would 
he  have  been  guilty  of  suicide?  Would  he.  in  the  last-lost- 
battle,  have  sacrificed  him.self  upon  his  country's  funeral  pyre? 
Xo.  But  I  believe  that  as  his  clear  eye  saw  the  approaching 
catastrophe,  his  faithful  zeal  wjuld  have  spurred  liini  to  strive 
ao  devotedly  to  avert  it  that  he  would  either  have  overwrought 
his  powers  or  met  his  death  in  generous  forgetfulness  (not  in 
intentional  desperation)  on  the  foremjst  edge  of  the  battle. 
Forhiin there wasdestined to  be  no  subjugationi  The  (rod  whom 
he  served  .so  well  was  too  gracious  to  his  favorite  S3n.  Less 
faithful  servants,  like  us.  may  need  this  bitter  scourge.  He 
was  nu^eter  for  his  reward. 

Yes,  there  is  solid  cousolalion  in  tlie  thought:  -lackson  is 
dead.  Does  it  seem  sometinu's  as  we  stand  beside  the  little 
ffreen  m:)und  at  the  Lexington  graveyard,  a  right  pitiful  thing, 
that  here,  beneatli  these  few  feet  of  turf,  garnished  with  no 
memorial  but  a  faded  wreath  (faded  like  the  cause  he  loved) 
and  the  modest  little  stone  i)laced  there  by  the  treuibling  hand 
of  a  weeping  woman  (only  hand  generous  and  brave  enough 


170  STOXEWALL    JACKSON. 

even  to  rear  a  stoue  to  Jackson  in  all  the  broad  land  baptized 
bj  his  heart's  bhiod).  that  there  lips  all  this  woi-ld  eonraius  of 
that  great  glory.  That  this  pure  devotion,  this  niatehless  cour- 
age, this  towering  genius  are  all  clean  gone  forever  out  of  this 
earth;  gone  amidst  the  utter  wreck  of  the  beloved  cause  which 
inspiied  them.  Ah.  but  it  was  more  pitiful  to  see  a  Lee  bear- 
ing his  proud,  sad  head  above  that  s^d,  surrounded  by  the 
skeleton  of  that  wreck,  head  stately  as  of  old.  yet  bleached 
prematurely  by  irremediable  sorrow,  with  that  eye  revealing 
its  measureless  depths  of  grief  even  beneath  its  patient  smile. 
More  pitiful  to  see  the  great  heart  break  with  an  anguish  which 
it  would  not  stoop  to  utter,  because  it  must  beh;ild  its  coun- 
try's death,  and  was  forbidden  of  God  to  die  before  it.  But 
pitifulest  of  all  is  the  sight  of  those  former  comrades  of  Jack- 
SJn  and  Lee.  who  are  willing  to  live  and  to  be  basely  consoled 
with  the  lures  of  the  ojtpressor.  and  who  thus  survive  not  only 
tlieir  country,  but  their  own  manhood.  Yes.  beside  that  sight 
the  grave  of  Jackson  is  luminous  with  joy. 

I  well  remember  the  only  time  when  I  saw  him  admit  a 
DroguDstic  of  final  defeat.  It  was  a  Sabbath  day  of  May,  1862, 
as  bright  and  calm  as  that  wliich  ushered  in  the  battle  of  Port 
"Rt^public.  We  were  riding  alone,  slowly,  to  a  religious  service 
in  a  distant  camp,  and  communing  of  our  cause,  not  then  as 
superior  with  inferior,  but  as  friend  witli  fi-iend.  I  disclosed 
to  Jackson  the  grounds  of  tlie  a]»])rehensions  which  I  always 
harbored  in  secret,  but  which  I  made  it  my  duty  to  conceal, 
after  the  strife  was  once  unavoidable,  from  every  mortal  save 
hitii.  He  defended  his  more  cheei-ful  hojies.  He  urged  the  sur- 
prising success  of  the  Confederate  goveinment  in  organizing 
armies  and  acquiring  material  of  war  in  the  face  of  an  adver- 
sary who  would  have  been  deemed  overwhelming,  and  espec- 
ially the  goodness  of  Divine  Providence  in  giving  us.  so  far. 
so  many  deliverances.  I  re-asserted  my  apprehensions  with  a 
pertinacity  which  was.  perhaps,  uncivil.  I  pointed  out  that 
the  people  were  not  rising  as  a  whole  to  the  height  of  the  ter- 
rible crisis.  That  while  the  minority  (all  honor  to  them)  were 
nobly  sacrificing  themselves  in  the  breach,  others  were  venal 
and  selfish,  eager  to  depute  to  hii-eling  substitutes  the  glor- 
ious privilege  of  defending  their  own  homes  and  rights,  and 
tu  make  a  sordid  traffic  out  af  the  necessities  of  the  glorious 


STONEWALL    JACKSON.  171 

martyrs  who  were  at  the  front  dyiii};'  for  them.  Tliat  it  was 
at  least  questionable  whether  such  men  were  not  predestined 
slaves.  That  the  government  was  manifestly  unequal  to  the 
arduous  enterprise  and  entangled  in  the  plodding  precedent.? 
of  dull  mediocrity,  instead  of  rising  to  the  exertion  i>f  lofty 
genius  and  heroism.  Witness,  for  instance,  the  deplorable  mili- 
tary policy  which  left  our  first  critical  victory  without  fruits; 
a  blunder  wliich  no  government  would  be  allowed  by  a  right- 
eous Providence  to  repeat  often,  with  impunity;  because  it  is 
as  truly  a  law  of  God's  administi'ation,  as  of  his  grace,  which 
is  expressed  in  the  fearful  question:  "How  can  ye  escape  who 
neglect  so  great  salvation?"  That  neither  government  nor 
people  seemed  awake  to  the  absolute  necessity  of  striking 
quickly  in  a  revolutionary  war  like  ours;  l)ut  they  were  settling 
down  to  a  regular,  protracted  contest,  in  wliich  the  machinery 
of  professional  warfare  would  gradually,  but  sureh',  abolish 
that  superiority-  of  the  Southern  citizen-soldier  over  the  Yankee 
mercenary,  which  the  honor  and  courage  of  the  former  gave 
him  while  both  were  undrilled;  a  routine- war  in  which  we 
should  measure  our  limited  resources  against  their  unlimited 
ones,  instead  of  measuring  ijatrioric  gallantry  against  slug- 
gishness. That  the  final  issue  of  such  a  struggle  must  be  the 
exhaustion  of  our  means  of  resistance  by  gradual  attrition, 
which  would  render  all  our  victories  unavailing.  At  length, 
as  I  enlarged  upon  the  points,  Jackson  turned  himself  upon  his 
saddle  towards  me  and  said,  with  a  smile  which  yet  had  a 
serious  meaning  in  it:  "Stop,  Major  Dabney;  you  will  make 
me  low-spirited!"  He  then  rode  in  silence  for  some  moments, 
and  said  as  though  to  himself:  "T  don't  profess  any  romantic 
indifference  to  life;  and  certainly,  in  my  own  private  relations, 
I  have  as  much  that  is  dear  to  wish  to  live  for,  as  any  man. 
Bnt  I  do  not  desire  to  survive  the  independence  of  my  country.'' 
These  words  were  uttered  with  a  profound,  pensive  earnest- 
ness, which  eft'ectually  ended  the  debate. 

Jackson  prayed  for  the  independence  of  his  country;  or, 
if  that  might  not  be.  he  desired  not  to  survive  its  overthrow. 
(xod  could  not  grant  the  former,  for  reasons  to  be  seen  anon, 
wherefore  he  granted  the  latter.  The  man  died  at  the  right 
time.  He  served  the  purpose  of  the  Divine  Wisdom  in  his 
generation.    He  went  upward  and  onward  upon  the  ftood-tide 


172  STOiNJiWALL    JACKSON. 

(;t'  his  fume  aud  <:^i-earue.ss.  uutil  it  i-caclied  its  vei-y   acme;    and 
tlieuce  lie  weut  up  to  liis  rest.     After  that  ca.iiie  the  ebb-tide, 
the  stranding-,  aud  the  wreck.    This,  surely,  is  a  siuj;ular  mark 
of  Heaven's  favoi-.  lifting  him  almost  to  the  rank  of  that  ante- 
diluvian hero  "wlio  walked  with  God.  and  he  was  n^t;  for  God 
took  him.*'     When  his  fame  and  success  were  at  their  zenith, 
never  yet  blighted  by  disaster;  when  the  cause  he  loved  better 
than  life  was  most  hopeful;  wlien  ht-  liad  just  performed  his 
most  brilliant  exploit,  and  cuuld  lea\e  his  counti-y  all  jubilant 
with  his  j)raise.  aud  glowing   witli   gratitude  for  his  deliver- 
ance; before  the  coming  wje  had  iiroj(^cted  upon  his  spirit  even 
the  fringe  of  that  sliadow  whidi  wonhl  liave  ])een  to  him  cold- 
er than  death — that  was  the  time  fdi-  Jackson  to  be  translated. 
The  otlu'r  thing,  which  alone  would  liave  been  better — to 
lead  his  counti-y  on  fi-oni  triumph  t  t  triumiih  to  final  deliver- 
ance— to  hang  up  his  sword  in  the  sanctuary,  and  to  sit  down 
a  freeman  amidst  the  people  he  had  saved —  fhat  we  would  not 
permit  God  to  effect;  and  that  we  were  not  tit  to  liave  such 
deliverance   wrought   for  us.   even   by    a    Jackson,    this    God 
would  demonstrate  before  he  took  him  away;  for  tlie  true  great 
man  is  a  gift  from  lieaven.  informed  with  a  portion  of  its  own 
life  and  tire.     Some  small  critics  liave  argued  that  gi-eat  men 
are  born  in  their  times;  that  tlu^y  are  mere  impers  (nations  of 
the  moral  forces  common  to   their  contemporaries.     This,  be 
assured,  may  be  true  of  that   species  of  little  great  men.   of 
whom  Shakespeare  writes,  that  "they  liave  greatnes.s  thrust  on 
rliem."     The  true  hero  is  not  made  by  his  times,  but  makes 
f/iem,     if  indeed  nial(M-ial  of  greatness  he  in  tlieiii.     They  wait 
for  him,  in  s  )re  need,  perhaps,  of  his  kindling  touch,  groping  in 
P'erilous  darkness   towards  destruction,   for   want   of  his   true 
light:  they  produce  him  not.     God  sends  him.     There  be  three 
missions  for  such  a  true  great  man  among  men.     If  "the  in- 
i(iuity  of  the  Amorites  is  already  full.""  the  Great  Power,  the 
wicked  great  man.  Caesar  or  Xapoh^  »n.  is  sent  among  them  to 
seduce  them  to  their  ruin.     If  they  be  wortliy  of  greatness,  and 
have  in  them  any  true  substance  to  be  kindled  by  the  heroic 
fire,  the  good  hero,  your  Moses  or  Washington,  shall  be  sent 
unto  them  for  deliverance.     If  it  be  not  yet  manifest  t :>  men 
whether  the  times  be  the  one  or  the  other.  Amoritish.  utterly 
reprobate,  and  fit  only  for  anarchy  or  slavery,  or  else  with 


STONEWALL    JACKSON.  173 

seed  of  nobleness  in  them,  and  capable  of  true  glory  (though  to 
Him  who  commissions  the  hero  there  be  no  mystery  nor  contin- 
gency wliich  is  not  manifest),  then  will  he  send  one,  or  perad- 
venture  several,  wlio  shall  be  touchstones  to  that  people,  to 
"try  them  so  as  ])y  tire,''  whether  there  be  worth  in  them  or 
no.  And  then  shall  this  Ood-sent  man  show  forth  an  exem- 
])lar  to  his  pe;i]»l('.  whidi  shall  be  unto  them  a  test,  whether 
th.ey,  having  eyes,  see,  or  see  not  the  true  glory  and  right,  and 
whether  they  have  hearts  to  understand  and  love  it.  And 
then  shall  he  bring  nigh  deliverances  unto  them,  full  of  prom- 
ise and  hope,  3'et  mutable,  which  are  (xod's  overtures  saving 
unto  them:  "Come  now  and  let  us  reason  togetliei-.  If  ye  be 
willing  and  obedient,  ye  shall  eat  the  good  of  tlie  land;  but  if 
ye  refuse  and  rebel,  ye  shall  be  devoured  with  the  sword;  for 
the  mouth  of  the  Lord  hath  spoken  it."  Will  ye,  or  will  ye 
not?  Thus  was  Jackson  God's  interrogatory  ro  this  people, 
saying  to  them:  ''Will  ye  be  like  him,  and  be  saved?  Lo, 
there!  AYhat  would  a  nation  of  Jacksons  be?  That  may  ye 
be!  How  righteousness  exalteth  a  people!  Shall  this  judg- 
ment and  righteousness  'be  the  stability  of  thy  times,  O  Con- 
federate, and  strength  of  thy  salvation?'"  And  these  mighty 
deliverances  at  .^lanassas,  AMncliester.  I'oi-t  Kepublic.  Chick- 
ahominy.  Fredericksburg.  Chancellorsville,  were  they  not  mani- 
fest overtures  to  us  to  have  the  (xod  of  Jackson  and  Lee  for 
our  God,  and  be  sav«^d?    ''Here  is  the  path;  walk  ye  in  it." 

And  what  said  our  ])e()ple?  Many  honestly  answered. 
"Yea,  Lord,  we  will";  of  whom  the  larger  part  walked  whither 
Jackson  did,  and  now  lie  with  him  in  gloiy.  lint  another  part 
answered,  "Nay,"  and  they  live.  :)n  sudi  terms  as  we  see,  even 
s'lch  as  they  elected.  To  them,  also,  it  was  plain  that  Jack- 
son's ti'uth  and  justice  and  devotion  to  duty  wei-e  the  things 
that  made  him  great  and  unconquerable.  Kven  the  wicked 
avouched  this.  Therefore  a  nation  of  sucli  like  men  must 
needs  be  uncon(|uerable  and  free,  liut  they  would  not  be  free 
on  such  terms.  Nay;  they  preferi-ed  I'ather  to  walk  after  their 
own  vanities.  Verily  tliey  huve  their  reward!  Let  tlie  c)ntras! 
appear  in  two  ]»oints.    -lackson  writes  thus  to  his  wife: 

"You  had  better  not  sell  your  coupons  from  the"  (Gonfed 
crate)  "bonds,  as  I  undcM'stand  tliey  ar(»  paid  in  gold;  but  let 
the  Confederacy  keep  the  gold.  Citizens  should  not  receive  a 
cenrof  gold  from  the  government  when  it  is  so  scarce." 


174  STONEWALL    JACKSON. 

Set  over  agaiust  this  the  spectacle  of  almost  the  mauy,  ex- 
cept the  soldiers,  gone  mad  at  the  enhancement  of  prices  with 
s])ecu]ation  and  extortion,  greedj'  to  rake  together  paper 
money,  mere  rags  and  trash,  while  such  as  Jackson  were  pour- 
ing out  money  and  blood  in  the  death  grapple  for  them.  Take 
arofher:  He  writes  to  his  wife,  Christmas,  1862,  in  answer  to 
the  inquiry  whether  he  could  not  visit  her,  and  see  the  child 
upon  whicli  he  liad  never  lojked,  while  the  army  was  in  winter- 
quarters: 

"It  appears  to  me  that  it  is  better  for  me  to  remain  with 
my  command  so  long  as  the  war  continues,  if  our  ever-gracious 
Heavenly  Father  permits.  The  army  suffers  immensel}-  by 
absentees.  If  all  our  troops,  officers  and  men,  were  at  their 
posts,  we  might,  through  God's  blessing,  expect  a  more  speedy 
termination  of  the  war.  The  temporal  affairs  of  same  are  so  de- 
ranged as  to  make  a  strong  plea  for  their  returning  home  for 
a  short  time;  but  our  Grod  has  greath'  blessed  me  and  mine  dur- 
ing my  absence;  and  whilst  it  would  be  a  great  comfort  to  see 
you,  and  my  darling  little  daughter,  and  others  in  whom  I  take 
special  interest,  yet  duty  apjiears  to  require  me  to  remain  with 
my  command.  It  is  most  important  that  those  at  headquarters 
set  an  example  by  remaining  at  the  post  of  duty." 

Look  now  from  this  picture  of  steadfastness  in  duty  to  the 
multitudes  of  absentees  and  of  stalwart  young  men  shirking  the 
army  by  every  slippery  expedient.  So  these  answered  back  to 
God's  overture:  "Mammon  is  dearer  than  manhood,  and  in- 
glorious ease  than  liberty."  The  disclosure  was  now  made  that 
this  people  could  not  righteously  be  free,  was  not  fit  for  it,  and 
that  God  was  just.  Jackson  could  now  go  home  to  his  rest. 
He  in  the  haven,  the  ebb-tide  might  begin;  he  safely  housed,  the 
storm  of  adversity  might  burst. 

The  thing  to  be  most  painfully  pondered  then,  by  this  peo- 
ple, is:  Whether  the  fate  of  Jackson,  and  such  like,  is  not 
proof  that  we  have  been  weighed  in  the  balances  and  found 
wanting?  How  readeth  the  handwriting  on  the  wall?  Not 
hopefully,  in  verity  of  truth,  if  Truth,  which  heroes  worship, 
be  indeed  eternal,  and  be  destined  to  assert  herself  ever.  Jack- 
son, alas,  lies  low,  under  the  little  hillock  in  Lexington  grave- 
yard, and  Lee  frets  out  his  great  heart-strings  at  tliis  world- 
wide vision  of  falsehood  and  vile  lucre,  cruel  as  sordid,  trium- 


STONEWALL    JACKSON.  175 

phaut,  iinwliipped  of  justice;  while  tlie  men  who  i-ide  prosper- 
ously are  they  who  sell  themselves  to  work  iniquity,  and  who 
say  "Evil,  be  thou  my  goad."  Yea,  these  are  the  men  whom 
the  people  delighteth  to  honor;  to  wliom  ihr  clnirches  and  min- 
isters of  God  in  this  land  bow  down,  juorlaiming:  "Verily  suc- 
cess is  divine;  and  Might  it  maketli  right;  and  the  Tower  of 
this  world,  it  shall  be  God  unto  us."  And  while  the  grave  of 
heroic  Truth  and  virtue  has  no  other  memento  than  the  humble 
stone  placed  there  by  a  feeble  woman's  hand,  pompous  monu- 
ments of  successful  wrong  affront  the  skies  with  their  altitude, 
''calling  evil  good  and  goad  evil,  and  putting  darkness  for  light 
and  light  for  darkness."  We  fear  that  when  Truth  shall  re-as- 
sert herself  it  will  go  ill  with  this  generation. 


THE  NEGRO  AND  THE  COMMON   SCHOOL. 

Dr.  L.  R.  Dickinson,  Editor  Planter  and  Farmer. — Dear 
Sir:  I  have  read  the  essays  of  "Civis"  in  your  December,  Jan- 
n;iry  and  February  numbers  with  profound  interest,  and  with 
general  approbatian.  Concurring  fully  with  him  in  the  oppo- 
sition to  the  whole  theory  of  primary  education  by  the  State, 
I  also  feel  the  force  of  his  views  concerning  the  negro  and  the 
common  school.  For  some  year;?  I  have  had  strong  convic- 
lions  of  the  falsehood  and  deadly  tendencies  of  the  the  Yankee 
theory  of  popular  State  education;  and  I  confess  that  the  in- 
IhuMii-e  which  prevented  my  lifting  up  my  voice  against  it  was, 
simpl}-,  the  belief  that  so  puny  a  voice  could  etfect  nothing 
against  the  prevalent  "craze"  whicli  has  infected  the  country 
on  this  subject.  You  may  conceive,  therefore,  the  satisfaction 
with  which  I  saw  ''Civis''  take  up  the  cause  of  truth  in  the  col- 
umns of  \\\^  Eeligious  Herald,  and  subsequently  in  the  Planter 
and  Farmer,  and  my  admiration  for  his  moral  courage,  elo- 
quence and  invincible  logic.  With  such  champions,  the  cause 
of  truth  is  not  so  hopeless  as  I  feared.  ^Vith  equal  satisfaction 
I  have  seen  the  Kev.  Dr.  John  Miller,  long  an  honored  citizen 
of  Virginia,  and  a  gallant  soldier  in  her  arni}^  arguing  the  same 
truth  in  the  Tribune,  with  even  more  tlian  his  wonted  terse- 
ness, boldness  and  condensed  logic  There  is  another  sign  that 
the  cause  of  truth  is  not  wholly  lost:  this  is  the  new  zeal  of  the 
self-constituted  protectors  of  this  Yankee  heresy  in  Virginia, 
in  circulating  arguments  and  pleas  for  their  error.  These  docu- 
ments have  had  no  other  etfect  on  my  mind  than  to  awaken  the 
wish  that,  if  we  must,  perforce,  have  this  false  system  imposed 
on  us  by  our  conquerors,  any  executive  agency,  created  to  ad- 
minister the  ill-starred  plan,  might  at  least  have  the  modesty  to 
stick  to  its  appointed  business,  and  not  waste  the  money  of  the 
people  in  the  attempt  to  manufacture  among  the  people  an  er- 
roneous public  opinion.  It  is  enough  to  be  taxed  heavily, 
against  my  judgment,  for  a  quixotic  project,  which  can  never 

176 


tM;te  NEGRO  AND  THE  COMMON  SCHOOL.  177 

do  iiie  or  any  one  else  any  ^ood.  I  am  unju.-i;tly  forceJ  to  su;-- 
render  my  money;  but  I  beg  leave  to  preserve  the  privilege  of 
doing  my  own  tliinking.  At  least,  I  do  not  propose  docilely  to 
receive  mj^  opinions  on  it  from  those,  who,  in  advocating  the 
system,  are  also  advocating  their  own  official  emoluments. 

While  speaking  of  the  general  subject,  I  am  tempted  to 
notice  a  recent  argument  which  is  tiaunted  before  us:  this  is,  the 
rapidly  increasing  popularity,  which,  it  is  claimed,  the  plan  is 
winning  at  the  South.  The  reply  is,  that  if  this  popularity  is 
growing,  it  exactly  confirms  the  argument  of  "Civis,"  that  the 
system  is  agrarian,  corrupting,  subsidizing  the  people  and  de- 
bauching their  independence.  Imperial  donatives  to  the  Roman 
populace  became  very  popular;  true,  but  they  poisoned  the  last 
good  element  of  Roman  character,  and  helped  to  complete  the 
putrescence  of  the  empire.  I  fear  it  is  only  too  true,  that  this 
cunning  cheat  of  Yankee  state-craft  ti  alluring  the  poor,  har- 
assed Southern  parent;  and  that  he  is  yielding  to  the  bait, 
which  promises  deceitfully  to  relieve  him  of  his  parental  re- 
sponsibility. A  bribe,  alas,  may  become  easily  popular  in  de- 
cadent times. 

But,  you  asked  for  my  opinion  of  this  fearful  question  of 
the  negro  in  our  common  schools.  It  is  not  necessary  for  me 
to  repeat  the  points  so  strongly  put  hy'Civis.'"'  To  one  of  them 
onl}',  I  would  add  my  voice:  the  unrighteousness  of  expending 
vast  sums,  wrung  by  a  grinding  taxation  from  our  oppressed 
people,  upon  a  pretended  education  of  freed  slaves;  when  the 
State  can  neither  pay  its  debts,  nor  attend  to  its  own  legitimate 
interests.  Law  and  common  lionesty  botli  endorse  the  maxim: 
"A  man  must  be  just  before  he  is  generous."  The  action  of  the 
State,  in  wasting  this  money  thus,  which  is  due  to  her  creditors, 
is  as  inexcusable  as  it  is  fantastical.  I  do  know  that  not  a  few 
of  our  white  brethren,  before  the  war,  independent  and  intelli- 
gent, are  now  prevented  from  educating  their  own  children,  be- 
cause they  are  compelled  to  keep  them  in  the  corn-field,  labor- 
ing from  year's  end  to  year's  end,  to  raise  these  taxes  to  give  a 
pretended  education  to  the  brats  of  the  black  paupers,  who  are 
loafing  around  their  plantations,  stealing  a  part  of  the  scanty 
crops  and  stock  their  poor,  struggling  boys  are  able  to  raise. 
Not  seldom  has  this  pitiful  sight  nmde  my  blood  boil  with  in- 
dignation, and  then  made  my  heart  bleed  with  the  thought: 


178        THE  NEGRO  AND  THE  COMMON  SCHOOL. 

"How  mournfully  complete  is  that  subjugation,  which  has  made 
men,  who  were  once  Virginians,  submit  tamely  to  this  burning 
wrong?"  "The  offense  is  rank,  and  smells  to  Heaven."  Thank 
Grod,  that  I  have  only  to  pay,  and  have  nothing  to  do  with  the 
imposition,  collection  and  disbursement  of  this  shameful  exac- 
tion. 

The  argument  by  which  they  endeavor  to  reconcile  us  to 
it  is  always  this:  "Negro  suffrage  is  a  fixed  fact;  Virginians 
cannot  help  it;  and  if  the  negro  is  to  share  in  governing  the 
State,  our  interest  is  to  qualify  him  for  doing  so,  by  educating 
him."  To  this  argument  many  well-meaning  men  reluctantly 
yield.  My  first  remark  upon  it  is :  That  I  am  not  at  all  clear, 
that  candor,  or  truth,  or  self-respect  will  allow  any  Virginian 
thus  to  accept  the  impossible  onus,  which  conquest  seeks  to 
impose  on  us.  Radicalism  thrusts  upon  us  this  fatal  innova- 
tion of  negro  suffrage;  and  then  requires  of  us  a  promise  that 
we  will  undertake  to  makf  it  work  safely  and  beneficently.  1 
beg  leave  to  demur  from  making  any  such  promise.  I  do  not 
tnean  to  divide  with  the  conqueror  the  ofius  of  his  ruthless  and 
murderous  crime  against  liberty  and  civilization.  He  has  com- 
mitted it;  let  him  bear  its  responsibility.  If  it  is  not  undone,  it 
will  destroy  both  American  liberty  and  civilization.  If  I  could 
prevent  that  result,  I  would;  and  if  I  believed  that  I  could,  1 
would  promise  to  try.  But,  knowing  that  I  cannot  prevent  that 
result,  and  that  no  human  power  can,  unless  the  crime  be  re- 
tracted, I  do  not  mean  to  make  a  deceitful  promise,  or  to  divide 
the  damning  responsibility  of  the  crime  with  its  perpetrators. 
If  I  saw  a  ruthless  quack  proposing  to  divide  a  man's  carotid 
artery,  in  a  mad  surgical  experiment,  and  he  should  ask  me  to 
promise  to  tie  it  up,  so  as  to  remedy  the  murder  he  was  com- 
mitting, I  should  tell  him  that,  however  anxious  to  save  the  life 
of  his  victim,  I  was  not  able  to  do  it  by  tying  up  a  carotid  ar- 
tery, and  could  not  promise.  If  he  persevered  in  murdering  the 
man,  he  must  bear  the  guilt  alone. 

For,  second:  the  pretended  education  which  Virginia  is 
now  giving,  at  so  heavy  a  cost,  to  the  negroes,  is,  as  a  remedy 
for  negro  suffrage,  utterly  deceptive,  farcical  and  dishonest. 
The  tenor  of  the  argument  concedes,  what  every  man,  not  a 
fool,  knows  to  be  true:  that  the  negroes,  as  a  'body,  are  now 
glaringly  unfit  for  the  privilege  of  voting.    What  makes  them 


'tttE  NKGkO  Aisrb  TilE  60MkON  SCHOOL.  tV§ 

unlit?  kSiuIi  things  as  these:  The  inexorable  barrier  of  alien 
race,  color,  and  natural  character,  between  them  and  that  other 
race  which  constitutes  the  bulk  of  Americans:  a  dense  ignor- 
ance of  the  rights;  and  duties  of  citizenship:  an  almost  universal 
lack  of  that  share  in  the  property  of  the  country,  which  alone 
can  <4ve  responsibility,  jjatriotic  interest  and  independence  to 
the  voter:  a  general  moral  grade  so  deplorably  low  as  to  per- 
mit their  being  driven  or  bought  like  a  herd  of  sheep  by  the 
demagogue:  a  parasitical  servility  and  dependency  of  nature, 
which  characterizes  the  race  everywhere,  and  in  all  ages:  an  al- 
most total  lack  of  real  persevering  aspirations:  and  last,  an 
obstinate  set  of  false  traditions,  which  bind  him  as  a  mere  serf 
to  a  party,  which  is  the  born  enemy  of  every  righteous  interest 
of  our  State.  Let  the  reader  look  at  that  list  of  ailments.  Not 
an  item  can  ))e  disputed.  Now.  our  political  quacks  propose  to 
cure  them,  and  that  in  such  time  as  will  save  the  Commonwealth 
before  the  infection  becomes  mortal.  And  liov\'?  V>y  such  an 
infusion  of  (not  education,  but)  a  modictini  of  the  arts  of  read- 
ing, writing,  and  cyphering;  which  are  at  best  uncertain  means, 
only,  for  educating;  and  that,  such  a  modicum  as  the  kind  of 
teachers  and  schoiols  Virginia  can  now  get,  will  infuse  through 
the  wool  of  such  heads.  Does  any  sane  man  really  believe  this 
remedy  will  do  that  vast  work?  Nay,  verily,  "Leviathan  is  not 
so  tamed."  Or,  to  return  to  the  former  trope,  we  may  use  the 
exclamation  of  John  Randolph  against  a  weak  book,  which  was 
proposed  to  him,  as  an  antidote  for  the  malignant  ability  of 
Bolingbroke's  infidelity.  "Venice  treacle,  and  syrup,  against 
ArsenicV  Whether  this  remedy  will  save  us,  may  be  settled 
by  an  argument  of  fact,  unanswerable  to  every  patriotic  Vir- 
ginian. The  Yankees  have  had  this  "nostrum"  of  free  school 
education,  in  fnll  force,  for  two  genei-ations.  Has  it  reared  up 
among  them,  out  of  white  people,  a  jjopular  mass  fit  to  enjoy 
universal  suffrage?  Did  not  this  very  system  rear  us  that  very 
generation,  which,  in  its  blind  ignorance  and  brutal  passion,  has 
recently  wrecked  the  institutions  of  America;  has  filled  our 
country  with  destitution,  woe  and  murder;  and,  with  a  stupid 
blindness,  only  equalled  by  its  wickedness,  has  stripped  its  own 
Commonwealths,  in  order  to  wreak  its  mad  spite  on  ours,  of 
the  whole  safeguards  for  their  own  freedom  and  peace?  These 
are  the  /ruits  of   this  Yankee  system  of  State  primary  educa- 


180        THE  NEGRO  AND  THE  COMMON  SCHOOL. 

tiou,  as  working  ou  a  white  race.  Will  it  work  better  ou  a 
black  race?  I  have  not  yet  learned  enough  of  that  type  of 
"intelligence"  which  this  system  seems  to  foster,  to  repudiate 
my  Saviour's  infallible  maxim,  "the  tree  is  ku3wn  by  its  fruits." 
The  Yankee  has  bragged  so  much  of  his  "intelligence,"  of  his 
floods  of  books  and  oceans  of  newspapers,  that  some  Southern 
people  seem  "dazed"  by  the  clamor.  Well;  there  may  be  "fus- 
siness,"  there  may  be  plenty  of  self-conceit,  and  flippancy;  but 
I  stand  simply  and  firmly  'by  this  impregnable  fact :  This  sys- 
tem has  not  given  the  Yankee  true  wisdom  enough  to  prevent 
his  destroying  the  country  and  himself.  What  mere  self-delu- 
sion is  it,  to  dream  that  it  will  give  this  quality  to  the  negro? 

But,  third:  There  are  causes  peculiar  to  the  negro  and  the 
South,  which  leave  us  no  hope  that  this  so-called  system  of  free 
schools  will  produce  even  as  much  fruit  as  in  Xew  England  or 
New  York.  One  is  the  fact  which  "Civis"  has  so  boldly  stated: 
The  black  race  is  an  alien  one  on  our  soil;  and  nothing  except 
his  amalgamation  with  ours,  or  his  subordination  to  ours,  can 
prevent  the  rise  of  that  instinctive  antipath}'  of  race,  which, 
history  shows,  always  arises  between  opposite  races  in  prox- 
imity. Another  cause  is  the  natural  indolence  of  the  negro 
character,  which  finds  precisely  its  desired  pretext,  in  this  pre- 
tended work  of  going  to  school.  Still  another  is  the  universal 
disposition  of  the  young  negro  to  construe  his  "liberty"  as 
meaning  precisely,  privilege  of  idleness.  It  was  easy  to  see 
that  the  free  school  must  needs  produce  the  very  result  which 
it  is  usually  producing,  under  such  exceptional  circumstances; 
not  education,  but  discontent  \sith,  and  unfitness  for,  the  free 
negro's  inevitable  sphere  and  destiny — if  he  is  to  have  any  good 
destiny— manual  labor.  With  such  teachers,  such  parents  as 
the  negro  parents,  and  such  material,  it  was  hopeless  to  expect 
any  really  beneficial  knowledge  of  the  literary  arts  to  be  dif- 
fused among  this  great  mass  of  black  children.  The  only  thing 
the  most  of  them  really  learn  is  a  fatal  confirmation  in  the  no- 
tion that  "freedom"  means  living  without  work,  and  a  great 
enhancement  of  the  determination  to  grasp  that  privilege.  The 
one  commanding  and  imperative  necessity  of  the  young  negro 
at  the  end  of  the  war,  in  the  eyes  of  any  sober  philanthropist, 
was  this:  that  he  should  be  promptly  made  to  learri  some  way 
to  earn  an  honest  living.     The  interest  which    the     Common- 


THE  NEGRO  AND  THE  COMMON  SCHOOL.  181 

wealth  had  in  his  quickly  learning  this  \atal  lesson,  was  peril- 
ously urgent,  as  I  shall  show.  Instead,  then,  of  giving  any  ne- 
gro over  five  years  old  a  pretext  of  any  sort  for  evading  his 
righteous  and  beneficent  lot  of  manual  labor,  we  should  have 
bent  every  energy  of  statesmanship  and  government  to  the  task 
of  somehow  keeping  the  grown  negroes  at  their  work,  and  mak- 
ing sure  that  the  young  ones  w^ere  taught  to  work.  To  this  end 
nearly  all  the  practical  talent  and  energy  should  have  been 
bent.  The  police  administration  should  have  been  so  omnipo- 
tent and  energetic  as  absolutely  to  cut  off  the  possibility  of  a 
negro  family's  subsisting  by  plunder — vagrancy  should  have 
been  rendered  impossible  by  stringent  laws,  apprenticing  the 
loafer  to  an  industrious  citizen.  The  tolerance  of  idleness  in 
children  approaching  adult  age,  by  their  parents,  should  have 
been  made  a  misdemeanor,  justifying  the  intervention  of  the 
magistrate.  J^uch  a  system  of  stimuli,  if  made  effective,  must 
have  been  harsher  than  domestic  slavery.  I  reply,  yes:  but  in 
imposing  it,  we  should  be  but  imitating  our  conciuerors,  who 
ordained  that  the  wise,  kindly,  benevolent,  yet  efficient  system 
of  the  South  should  give  place  to  their  more  pretentious  but 
oppressive  system.  We  are  fully  justified  by  the  rights  of  self- 
preservation,  to  imitate  their  severity.  Here  is  a  parable  which 
expresses  accurately  the  folly  Virginia  has  committed.  She 
saw  a  neighbor  of  her's,  named,  we  will  say.  Smith,  who  was 
very  rich,  and  who  also  had  a  large  family  of  healthy  children. 
Smith  is  using  a  part  of  his  abundance,  in  sending  all  of  his 
children  to  school.  Now  Virginia  is  not  ricli,  but  desperately 
poor;  and  it  will  be  "touch  and  go"  if  some  of  her  children  do 
not  actually  starve  before  the  year  is  out.  Moreover,  Virginia's 
children  are  in  so  feverish,  unhealthy  a  state,  that  confinement 
uith  books  is  likely  to  have  no  effect,  except  brain-fever.  But 
the  old  lady  sees  Smith"*;  gang  passing  her  door  to  school  every 
day,  ^ith  envious  eyes.  She  feels  that  somehow  "book-larnin" 
is  a  social  distinction.  She  hears  Smith's  children  "chaffing" 
hers  about  their  inferiority  of  privilege,  and  she  can  stand  it  no 
longer.  So  she  completes  her  own  bankruptcy  to  buy  an  outfit 
of  "store  clothcis,"  and  school-books,  and  sends  all  her  children. 
Luckless  urchins!  what  they  needed  was  wholesome  food  and 
medicine,  not  books  and  confinement.  The  result  of  this  blind 
disregard  of  times  and  differences,  and  abilities,  is,  that  about 


182  THE  NEGRO  AND  THE  COMMON  SCHOOL. 

the  time  famine  and  the  sheriff  are  both  knocking  at  the  old 

lady's  door,  her  children  are  sent  back  to  her.  in  raging  delirium 

from  brain  fever,  either  helpless,  or  rending  each  other  in  their 

plirensy. 

question  fairl\-  in  the  face?     It  makes  me  shudder — ^and  the 

Does  any  one  demur,  that  this  picture  is  extravagant? 
Then,  he  has  not  begun  to  see  the  fearful  peril  of  our  situation. 
Indeed,  I  feel  sure  that  bad  as  is  the  present  state  of  Virginia 
(in  consequence  of  the  abolition  measure  forced  upon  us)  far 
the  worst  is  yet  to  come.  What  are  we  to  do  with  this  young 
generati(m  of  negroes  now  growing  up?  Have  men  looked  that 
free  school  is  one  of  the  most  tragical  features  in  the  coming 
drama.  Let  these  facts  be  considered.  This  coming  generation 
will  be  a  numerous  one.  Men.  like  ''Civis,''  are  evidently  nurs- 
ing the  secret  hope  that  it  will  not;  and  to  my  mind  it  is  one  o<' 
the  most  painful  evidences  of  the  atrocity  of  the  wrong  per- 
petrated on  Mrginia  by  her  conquerors,  that  good,  patriotic, 
philanthropic.  Christian  men  here  see  the  evil  fruits  of  that 
crime  looming  up  so  fearfully,  as  actually  to  find  a  grain  of  pri 
vate  consolation  in  the  hopel  that  a  race  of  human  beings 
among  us  are  advancing  to  the  miseries  of  extermination.  I  do 
not  find  fault  with  the  hape;  it  is  natural — I  shall  naturally  and 
justifiably  hope  that  my  wilful  destroyer  may  x>e'rish  before  he 
murders  me — I  condenm  the  oppression  which  has  left  good  and 
wise  men  no  solace  except  in  that  hope.  They  scan  the  bills  of 
mortality  in  Southern  cities  with  a  sigh  of  relief.  Doubtless 
city-life  is  a  devouring  gulf  for  the  poor  freedman,  but  Virginia 
is  a  rural  State;  and  in  the  country,  the  lazy  freedman  multi- 
plies, unstinted  by  his  povei'ty.  The  climate  is  genial,  the  win- 
ter is  short,  the  jjersimmons  and  blackberries  span  the  larger 
part  of  the  year;  the  "'old  hares"  are  prolific;  the  old  freedmen, 
once  slaves,  still  do  about  half  work,  and  produce  some  pro- 
visions; and  above  all,  the  process  of  eating  up  the  white  peo- 
ple by  petty  pilferings  is  still  far  from  completed.  So,  between 
these  various  resources,  country  negroes  manage  to  sustain 
these  low  conditions  of  existence,  which  enable  so  low  a  race 
to  multiply;  and  they  multiply  on,  as  yet,  very  much  as  in  old 
times.  This  perilous  incoming  generation  will  be  a  numerous 
one. 

The  next  fact  is,  thatMff  neo;ro  is  n  creature  o^  Imbit,       Those 


THE  NEGUO  AND  THE  COMMON  SCHOOL.  188 

whose  characters  were  formed  in  slavery  still  carry  with  them 
two  habits  gained  there;  one,  tliat  of  work  (though  gradually  re- 
laxing); the  other,  that  of  loyalty  and  affectionate  respect  for 
"their  white  folks."  The  new  generation  cherishes  neither.  I 
know  of  only  one  or  two,  of  either  sex,  who  are  engaged  in  any 
self-supporting-  labor — they  live  on  their  parents,  or  on  pilfer- 
ing. Does  one  see  any  of  them  apprenticed  to  any  useful  trade, 
or  in  the  regular  employment  of  any  business  man?  I  have 
with  me  the  testimony  of  the  planters;  they  tell  me  that,  in 
hiring  hands,  they  always  seek  middle-aged  ones,  who  were 
trained  in  slavery;  the  younger  are  not  worth  hiring,  if  they 
ever  offer.  I  have  with  me  the  testimony  of  the  middle-aged 
freedmen,  the  fathers  and  mothers  themselves.  Their  complaint 
is,  that  the  "young  ones  have  no  idea  of  work — they  do  not 
know  what  real  work  is — what  is  to  become  of  them,  the  Lord 
only  knows."  All  who  know  the  negro  character  are  aware 
also  of  that  infirmity  of  purpose  which,  almost  universally  ren- 
ders them  inefficient  parents.  They  are  either  too  weak  or  in- 
dulgent, or  they  are  brutally  and  capriciously  severe.  Hence, 
the  usual  law  of  negro  families  is,  a  low  state  of  parental  and 
filial  qualities,  dissatisfied  parents,  and  insubordinate  children 
— it  was  always  so  upon  the  plantations,  except  as  the  master 
or  overseer  guided  and  reinforced  the  father's  rule;  it  is  flag- 
rantly so  now.  The  ugliest  feature  of  this  coming  day  is,  that 
the  young  negroes  are  evidently  growiuj;  iij3  with  a  restive, 
surly,  insolent  spirit  towards  the  whites,  in  place  of  that  close 
family  affection,  feudal  loyalty,  and  humble  pi-ide  in  their  su- 
periors, which  once  united  masters  and  servants.  How  can  it 
be  otherwise?  The  family  tie  is  gone  forever — the  "carpet  bag- 
ger" has  played  his  accursed  game  upon  the  negro's  passions. 
Suffrage  and  the  free  school  awaken  in  the  young  negro  foolish 
and  impossible  aspirations,  which  are  fated  to  disappointment, 
and  whose  disappointment  he  will  assuredly  lay  to  the  door  of 
his  white  rivals,  lately  his  kindly  protectors.  One  needs  only 
to  walk  by  the  way.  to  see  this  change  of  temper.  The  ex- 
slave  greets  his  former  "white  folks"  with  a  smile  of  genuine 
pleasure,  and  with  all  the  deference  of  old  times.  But  his  son 
and  daughter  pass  without  speech,  or  with  a  surly  nod,  and  as- 
sert their  independence  by  shouldering  white  children  from  the 
sidewalk.    What,  meantime,  is  the  temper  to  which  these  white 


184  THE  NEGRO  AND  THE  COMMON  SCHOOL. 

young  people  are  growing  up?  They  also  are  strangers  to  the 
family  feeling;  they  know  nothing  of  the  kindly  responsibility 
and  patronage  begotten  by  the  former  dependence  of  the  ser- 
vants; to  them  these  insolent  young  blacks  are  simply  stran- 
gers and  aliens,  repulsive  and  abhorred.  The  sons  of  the  he- 
roes who  fell  at  Manassas  and  Gettysburg  are  not  likely  to  im- 
bibe from  widowed  mothers  traditions  which  will  make  them 
very  tolerant  of  "negro  impudence." 

The  State  of  Xew  Jersey  has  emancipated  her  slaves  re- 
cently enough,  for  men  naw  living  to  testify  to  the  effects  of  the 
measure.  The  aecount  that  I  have  uniformly  heard  from  her 
citizens  is  this:  That  the  negroes  reared  in  slavery  continued 
to  be  useful,  but  that  when  this  generation  had  passed  away, 
business  men  ceased,  as  a  general  rule,  to  employ  negroes  in 
any  permanent  contract  of  labor.  They  were  found  too  fickle, 
uncertain  and  indolent.  Ask  a  New  Jersey  farmer  to  employ  a 
negro  for  his  permanent  farm  help,  and  he  would  answer  with 
a  smile  at  your  absurdity.  After  a  time  negroes  almost  ceased 
to  be  seen  in  rural  districts;  they  drifted  into  taverns,  barbers' 
shops  and  other  places  where  ''jobs"  could  be  picked  up.  What 
right  have  we  to  flatter  ourselves  with  a  different  result  in  Vir- 
ginia. 

Now  an  industrious  community  can  endure  a  certain  per- 
centage of  idlers,  but  if  it  be  increased  too  much,  they  poison 
the  community.  The  body  politic  is,  in  this,  like  the  natural 
body,  a  certain  amount  of  poison  in  its  circulation  can  be  en- 
dured, and  eliminated  by  the  emunctory  organs,  but  if  the  poi- 
son is  in  larger  quantity,  the  man  dies.  When  the  generation 
of  freed-negroes,  which  works  feebly,  has  passed  away,  can  the 
white  people  of  Southside  Virginia  endure  the  pilfering  of  a 
body  of  negroes  more  numerous  than  themselves,  who  will  work 
not  at  all?  And  when  the  white  people  are  at  last  driven  to 
the  end  of  all  patience  by  intolerable  annoyances,  and  the  blacks 
are  determined  to  live  and  not  to  work,  collision  cannot  but  en- 
sue. What  shall  we  do  with  that  generation  of  negroes  "edu- 
cated" to  be  above  work?  I  see  no  other  prospect,  humanly 
speaking,  except  the  beginning  of  a  war  of  races,  which  will 
bring  back  the  provost  marshal,  and  the  government  of  the 
bayonet,  and  will,  indeed,  make  us  eager  to  welcome  them. 

But  even  if  this  danger  is  evaded,  I  object  to  this  whole 


THE  NKGRO  AND  THE  COMMON  SCHOOL.  185 

scheme  of  State  education  for  negroes,  because,  if  successful, 
it  can  only  result  in  wrono-.  In  every  civilized  country,  there 
must  be  a  laboring  class.  The  idea  that  this  universal  "educa- 
tion," so-called,  is  to  elevate  that  laboring  class  into  a  reading 
body,  and  still  leave  them  laborers,  is  a  vain  vision.  The  peo- 
ple who  are  addicted  to  manual  labor  are  never  going  to  be 
students,  as  a  body.  It  is  not  so  in  boasted  Prussia,  nor  in 
boasting  New  England.  Laborers,  if  taught  the  arts  of  letters 
in  their  youth,  disuse  them  in  their  toiling  manhood.  The  brain 
which  is  taxed  to  supply  the  nervous  energy  for  a  day  of  man- 
ual labor,  will  have  none  left  for  literary  pursuits.  If  our  civ- 
ilization is  to  continue,  there  must  be,  at  the  bottom  of  the  so- 
cial fabric,  a  class  who  must  work  and  not  read.  Now,  grant 
that  that  the  free  school  does  all  that  its  wildest  boasts  can 
claim;  that  it  elevates  the  negroes  out  of  this  grade.  Then  the 
only  result  will  be,  that  white  people  must  descend  into  it,  and 
occupy  it.  Where  then  is  the  gain?  I,  for  one,  say  plainly, 
that  I  belong  to  the  white  race,  and  that  if  I  must  choose  be- 
rween  the  two  results,  my  philanthropy  leads  me  to  desire  the 
I)roisperity  of  my  own  people,  in  preference  to  that  of  an  alien 
race.  I  do  not  see  any  humanity  in  taking  the  negro  out  of  the 
place  for  which  nature  has  fitted  him,  at  the  cost  of  thrusting 
my  own  kindred  down  into  it.  No  amelioration  whatever  is 
effected  in  the  country  taken  as  a  wliole;  but  an  unnatural 
crime  is  committed  to  gratify  a.  quixotic  and  unthinking 
v,i=0Tcliet. 

Again:  Let  us  grant  that  free  schools  effect  all  that  is 
claimed  for  the  elevation  of  the  negro;  that  he  is  actually  fitted 
for  all  the  dignities  of  the  commonwealth,  and  for  social  equal- 
ity. Then,  will  he  not  denumd  it?  Of  course.  Here  then,  is 
my  concluding ,^/7^w/«a.  If  these  negro  schools  are  to  fail,  they 
should  be  abolished  without  further  waste.  If  they  are  to  suc- 
ceed, they  only  prepare  the  way  for  that  abhorred  fate,  amal- 
gamation. If  the  State  School  Board  are  working  for  any- 
thing, they  are  working  for  this;  here  is  the  goal  of  their  plans. 
The  most  solemn  and  urgent  duty  now  incumbent  on  the  rulers 
of  Virginia,  is  to  devise  measures  to  prevent  the  gradual  but 
sure  approach  of  this  final  disaster.  The  satanic  artificers  of 
our  subjugation  well  knew  the  work  which  they  designed  to 
perpetrate:  it  is  so  to  mingle  that  blood  which  flowed  in  the 


186  THE  NEGRO  AND  THE  COMMON  SCHOOL. 

veins  of  our  Washingtona,  Lees,  aud  Jacksons,  and  which  con- 
secrated the  battle  iSeids  ot  the  Confederacy,  with  this  sordid, 
alien  taint,  that  the  bastard  stream  shall  never  again  throb 
with  independence  enough  to  make  a  tyrant  tremble.  These 
men  were  taught  by  the  instincts  of  their  envy  and  malignity, 
but  too  infallibly,  how  the  accursed  work  waiS  to  be  done.  They 
knew  that  political  equality  would  prepare  they  way  for  social 
equality,  and  that,  again  for  amalgamation.  It  is  only  our  pride 
which  hides  the  danger  from  our  ejes.  A  friend  from  Virginia 
was  conversing,  in  London,  with  an  old  English  navy  surgeon, 
who  was  intimately  acquainted  with  the  British  West-India  Is- 
lands. He  assured  the  Virginian  that  the  "reconstruction  acts" 
tended  directly  to  amalgamation,  and  would  surely  result  in  it 
if  persevered  in.  ''Never,"  exclaimed  my  Virginia  friend,  ''In 
our  case,  our  people's  pride  of  race  will  eft'ectually  protect  them 
from  that  last  infamy."  "Had  ever  any  people,"  replied  the  ex- 
surgeon,  ''more  pride  of  race  than  the  English?  Yet  they  are 
amalgamating  in  Jamaica.  We  have  the  teachings  of  forty 
years'  experience  in  this  matter;  when  your  emancipation  has 
become,  like  ours,  forty  years  old,  you  will  see."  The  Virginian 
was  silenced.  Even  now,  after  ten  years  of  the  misery  and 
shame  of  subjugation,  one  has  only  to  open  his  eyes  to  see  the 
crumbling  awa}^  of  the  social  barriers  between  the  two  races. 
The  nearest  and  heaviest  share  of  this  curse  of  mixed  blood 
will,  of  course,  fall  upon  the  conquered  States  themselves;  but 
the  revengeful  mind  will  have  the  grim  satisfaction  of  seeing 
the  conquering  States  reap  their  sure  and  fearful  retribution 
from  the  same  cause.  Eleven  populous  States,  tainted  with  this 
poison  of  hybrid  and  corrupted  blood,  will  be  enough  to  com- 
plete the  destruction  of  the  white  States  to  which  they  will  be 
chained.  The  Yankee  empire  will  then  find  itself,  like  a  strong 
man  with  a  cankerous  limb,  perishing  by  inches,  in  chronic  and 
hideous  agonies.  The  member  which  spreads  its  poison  through 
the  whole  body  can  neither  be  healed  nor  amputated,  all  will 
putrify  together. 

Is  there  any  remedy?  This  is  the  question  which  will  be 
urged,  and  those  who  think  with  me  are  listened  to  with  dis- 
favor, chiefly  because  people  do  not  like  to  be  reminded  of  a 
shameful  and  miserable  future,  which  they  suppose  to  be  un- 
avoidable; they  prefer  to  shut  their  eyes  and  enjoy  the  rem- 


THE  NEGRO  AND  THE  COMMON  SCHOOL.  187 

nants  of  pleasures  which  are  left  them,  without  disturbauce. 
We  shall  be  asked:  Why  sj)(^ak  of  these  thiugs,  unless  there  cau 
be  shown  a  remedy?  There  might  be  a  remedy,  if  the  peoi)le 
and  their  leaders  were  single-minded  and  honest  in  their  action 
as  citizens.  The  key-note  of  that  remedy  is  in  ^'impartial  sutt"- 
rage."  In  endeavoring  to  remedy  the  dangers  of  the  common- 
wealth, we  must  remember  that  we  are  a  conquered  people,  and 
have  to  obey  our  masters.  Otherwise  our  straight  road  toack 
to  safety  would  be  at  ouce  to  repeal  negro-suffrage.  Rut  our 
masters  will  not  hear  of  that.  What  is  called  "impartial  suff- 
rage" is,  however,  permitted  by  their  new  Coustituticm.  We 
should  at  ouce  avail  ourselves  of  that  perniissioil,  and  without 
attempting  any  discriminatijn  on  grounds  of  ''race,  color,  or 
previous  condition  of  bondage,''  establish  qualifications  both 
of  property  and  intelligence  for  the  privilege  of  voting.  This 
would  exclude  the  great  multitude  of  negroes,  and  also  a  great 
many  white  men.  And  this  last  would  of  ilself  be  no  little  gain, 
for  many  more  white  men  have  the  privilege  than  use  it  for 
the  good  of  the  State.  Agiiiu,  the  very  misfortunes  of  the  time 
give  us  this  advantage  now,  for  drawing  back  from  the  ultra- 
radicalism  of  our  previous  legislation:  that  the  mass  of  white 
men  are  now  so  impressed  with  the  dishonor  and  mischiefs  of 
negro  suffrage,  the  majority  of  those  white  voters  having  no 
property,  w-ould,  even  joyfully,  surrender  their  privilege,  tar- 
nished and  worthless  as  it  is,  if  thereby  the  negro  could  be  ex- 
cluded. This  constitutes  our  opportunity.  To  this  saving  ref ')rm 
there  is  just  one  real  obstacle,  and  that  is,  the  timid  self-inter- 
est of  the  office-seeking  class.  I  take  it  for  granted  that  every 
sensible  man  in  Vii-ginia  thinks  in  his  heart  that  negro  suft'rage 
is  a  deplorable  mistake.  But  many  wish  to  be  elected  or  ap- 
pointed to  office.  These  begin  to  calculate,  under  the  prompt- 
ings of  timid  selfishness:  "While  I  should  be  very  glad  to  see 
thi;s  wholesome  reform,  it  will  not  be  prudent  for  me  to  ad- 
vocate it;  because,  should  a  movement  for  it,  advocated  by  me, 
perchance  fail,  then  all  the  classes  whom  that  movement  pro- 
posed to  disfranchise  of  this  useless  and  hurtful  privilege,  will 
be  offended  with  me.  So,  when  self-love  desires  to  be  elected 
to  some  place  of  emolument,  they  will  remember  me  and  vote 
against  me.  Hence,  I  cannot  move  in  that  reform,  however 
desirable."    This  isthe  real  difficulty,   and  the  only  real  difificulty, 


188  THE  NEGRO  AND  THE  COMMON  SCHOOL. 

in  the  way  of  this  blessed  step  towards  salvation.  If  all  the 
men  who  now  cherish  aspirations  for  office,  could  onl}-  he  made 
to  act  disinterestedly — to  forget  self,  to  resolve  to  do  the  right 
and  wise  thing  for  the  Commonwealth,  w^hether  they  were  ever 
voted  for  again  or  not,  the  whole  thing  would  be  easy.  There  are 
a  plenty  of  intelligent  young  men  in  Virginia,  now  without 
property,  who  would  joyfully  join  the  freeholders  in  voting  to 
disfranchise  themselves  for  this  great  end,  to  make  a  command- 
ing majority.  So  that  the  question,  whether  the  State  can  be 
saved  from  this  perdition,  turns  practically  3n  this  other  ques- 
tion (as  indeed  the  fate  of  Commouwealtlis  always  practically 
does),  whether  her  people  can  for  once  act  with  a  real  honest 
disinterestedness.  If  the  people  and  their  leaders  are  capable 
of  that,  they  can  save  themselves;  if  not  capable,  nothing  can 
save  them.  And  perhaps  the  verdict  of  posterity  will  be,  that 
they  were  unworthy  of  being  saved.  It  will  be  well  for  all  to 
look  this  view  of  the  matter  fully  in  the  face.  Especially  is  it 
necessary  for  the  farmers  to  see  precisely  where  the  deliverance 
and  the  obstacle  to  it  lie. 

The  other  branch  of  our  remedy  should  be  to  reform  our 
school  system,  both  for  blacks  and  whites,  back  towards  the 
system  of  our  fathers  in  Virginia,  just  as  fast  as  possible.  I 
mean  the  system  which  prevailed  in  Virginia  up  to  1860.  I 
know  that  all  the  self-constituted,  pretended  advocates  of  free 
education  disparage^  that  system  as  miserably  partial  and  in- 
efficient. But  our  fathers  knew  what  thej  w^ere  about,  much 
better  than  was  sujiposed.  "Young  jieaple  f/iink  old  folks  are 
fools,  but  old  people  kno7v  that  young  ones  are."  Did  that  old 
system  produce  perfect  results?  Xo.  Xo  system  in  imperfect 
human  hands  ever  produces  perfect  results.  Did  it  teach  every 
adult  in  the  State  to  read  and  write?  No.  Buf  neither  will 
the  new  one.  That  is,  the  new  system  will  no  more  be  able  to 
overcome  the  inexorable  law,  that  the  mass  of  those  addicted 
to  manual  labor  will  not  and  cannot  addict  themselves  to  the 
literary  arts,  than  our  fathers  were.  And  after  all  the  fuss  and 
boast,  and  iniquitous  expense,  "the  upshot"  will  be  that  there 
will  still  be  just  as  many  adults  in  the  State,  who  practically 
will  not  read,  and  who  will  forget  how,  as  before.  And  there 
will  be  far  fewer  to  use  their  art  of  reading  to  any  good  pur- 
pose.    How  often  will  men  stubbornly  forget  that  the    art  of 


TIIK  NKGRO  AND  THE  COMMON  SCHOOL.  189 

reading  is  not  education^  but  only  a  very  uncertain  means  of 
education.  With  that  class  for  which  the  free  school  especially 
provides,  it  is  usually  a  worthless  means.  The  feasible  and  use- 
ful education  for  that  class  is  the  development  of  faculties 
which  takes  place  in  learning  how  to  make  an  honest  li\ino'. 
My  prediction  is  already  verified  in  Massachusetts,  the  very 
home  of  the  State-school  humbug.  The  annual  reports  of  their 
own  school  superintendents  confess  it.  A  large  part  of  the  rural 
laboring  population,  still  do  nat  read,  have  forgotten  how  to 
read,  do  not  care  to  know,  and  care  not  a  stiver  whether  their 
children  know.  (Here,  by  the  way,  is  the  cause  of  this  new 
furor  for  ''compulsory  education").  Tried  by  this  sober  and 
truthful  standard,  I  assert  that  the  comparative  fruits  of  our  old 
system  fully  justified  its  excellence.  Again  I  demand  that  the 
"tree  shall  be  known  by  its  fruits."  That  was  the  system  which 
reared  the  Virginians  of  1861:  that  glorious,  enlightened  gen- 
eration of  men,  which  comprehended  so  clearly  the  vital  im- 
portance of  the  great  doctrine  of  State  sovereignty,  while  the 
Yankee  hordes,  reared  up  under  this  be-ipraised  system  of  free 
schools,  iguorantly  trampled  on  it  with  beastly  stupidity  and  vio- 
lence: that  glorious  generation  whicli  contended  for  the  right  so 
firmh%  so  temperately,  as  to  win  the  admiration  of  the  world: 
that  generation  Avhieh,  when  moderation  availed  no  longer, 
formed  the  heroic  armies  which  followed  Jackson  and  Lee  to 
the  last.  Yes,  it  was  the  old  Virginia  system  that  reared  the 
yeomanry  which  filled  those  immortal  ranks  with  such  a  body 
of  privates — so  virtuous,  so  enduring,  so  brave,  so  intelligent, 
as  no  other  generals  ever  commanded.  Yes,  "let  the  tree  be 
known  'by  its  fruits."  The  tree  that  bore  "the  rank  and  file"  of 
the  Stonewall  brigade  was  good  enough  for  me.  It  may  be 
pruned,  it  may  be  watered  and  tilled,  and  thus  it  may  be  im- 
proved.   Our  true  wisdom  will  be  to  plant  it  again. 

This  old  system  evinced  its  wisdom  by  avoiding  the  pagan. 
Spartan  theory,  which  makes  the  State  the  parent.  It  left  the 
parent  supreme  in  his  God-given  sphere,  as  the  responsible 
party  for  providing  and  directing  the  education  of  his  own  ofl- 
spring.  This  old  plan,  instead  of  usurping,  encouraged  and  as- 
sisted, where  assistance  was  needed.  It  was  wise  again,  in  that 
it  avoided  creating  salaried  offices  to  eat  up  the  people's  money, 
and  yet  do  no  actual  teaching.    It  was  supremely  wise,  in  that 


190  THE!  I^EGRO  AND  TJtfE  COMMON  SCPtOOL. 

if  cut  the  Grordian  knot.  "Eeliginn  in  the  State  school,"  which 
now  'baffles  British  and  Yanlcee  wit.  It  set  that  insuperable 
difficulty  clear  on  one  side,  by  leaving  the  school  as  the  creature 
of  the  parents,  and  not  of  the  State.  It  was  wise  in  its  exceed- 
ing ecenomy,  a  trait  so  essential  to  the  State  now. 

I  would  have  our  rulers,  then,  avail  themselves  of  another 
circumstance  growing  out  of  our  calamities,  to  disarm  the  over- 
weening zeal  of  the  State  school  men.  We  can  truthfully  say 
to  them:  "Your  system,  whether  best  or  not,  is  simply  imprac- 
ticable for  Virginia.  You  see  that  she  has  stretched  taxation  to 
the  verge  of  confiscation;  and  yet  her  debt  cannot  be  paid  and 
that  costly  system  carried  on."  Let  two  separate  ''Literary 
funds,"  then,  be  created,  one  for  whites  and  one  for  blacks,  each 
separate,  and  each  replenished  from  the  taxation  of  its  own 
class.  Let  "each  tub  stand  upon  its  own  bottom."  Instead  of 
the  State  undertaking  to  be  a  universal  creator  and  sustainer  of 
schools,  let  it  invite  jiarents  to  create,  sustain,  and  govern  their 
own  .schools  under  the  assistance  and  guidance  of  an  inexpen- 
sive and  (mainly)  unsalaried  Board,  and  then  render  such  help 
to  those  parents  who  are  unable  to  help  themselves,  as  the  very 
limited  school  tax  will  permit.  And  let  the  existence  of  .some 
aspiration  in  parents  or  children  be  the  uniform  condition  of  the 
aid;  for  without  this  condition  it  is  infallibly  thrown  away. 
"One  man  may  take  a  horse  to  w'ater,  but  a  hundred  can't  make 
liim  drink."  R.  L.  DABNEY. 

Union  Theological  Seminary,  Va.,  Feb.  21,  1876. 


THE  STATE  FREE  SCHOOL  SYSTEM   IMPOSED 

UPON  VIRGINIA  BY  THE  UNDERWOOD 

CONSTITUTION. 


DR.  DABNEY, 


He  Has  A  Few  Words  to  Say  in  Replv  to  Dr.  Rnffner, 


Repelling  tlie  Charge  of  luconsisteucv — An  Advocate  of  Uni- 
versal Education,  Provided  it  is  True  Education — Tlie  Old 
Virginia  Plan — School  Houses  and  Jails — Educated  Crim- 
inals— A  Few  Comparative  Figures — Drenching  and  Drink- 
ing— Home  Education. 

I. 
Hampden  Sidney,  Ya.,  April  18,  1870. 
To  W.  H.  Ruffner,  Esq.,  Superintendent  of  State  Schools: 

Dear  Sir: — You  have  undesignedly  dane  the  cause  of  truth  a 
service  by  so  assailing  the  Virginia  doctrines  as  advanced  by 
nie  in  the  Southern  Planter  as  to  awaken  the  public  curiosity 
to  their  defence.  That  defence  I  propose  to  continue  in  a  brief 
reply  to  3^ou  by  facts  and  arguments  alone.  I  do  not  propose 
to  follow  you  into  any  personalities.  I  am  perfectly  aware  that 
my  person  is,  to  the  people  of  Virginia,  too  unimportant  for 
them  to  feel  interested  in  a  squabble  over  its  consistency  or 
credit.  I  jDresume  tliat  their  feeling  for  your  private  person  al- 
so is  not  very  different.  For  an  important  principle  they  may 
care.  While  my  humble  sphere  as  a  minister  and  teacher  may 
render  the  great  })ublic  indifferent  to  me  personally,  my  em- 
ployers and  neighbors,  who  know  me,  need  no  defence  of  my 
personal  credit  from  any  disparagement  from  what  quarter  so- 
ever. They  know  tliat  my  position  is  thoroughh'  consistent 
and  independent;  that  in  mA^  own  education  I  never  received 
from  Church  or  State  one  dollar  of  eleemosynary  aid;  and  that 
I  have  neither  neglected  nor  abused  any  official  trust  comniil- 
ted  to  me. 

191 


192         THE  STATE  FREE  SCnoOL  SYSTEM. 

You  think  ir  iiicoii:<isrent  in  nie  to  disapprove  any  free 
school  because,  you  say.  I  am  a  professor  in  a  "free  school'' — a 
theological  seminary.  This  seminary  is  indeed  truly  ''a  free 
school."  "I  thank  the  Jew  for  that  word."  Founded  and  sus- 
tained by  the  spontaneous,  unforced  gifts  of  good  men,  it  gives 
free  tuition  in  divinity  to  joung  men  of  all  denominations — 
even  the  most  opposed  to  the  donors — seeking  the  ministry.  It 
is  honestly  and  really  a  ''free  school" — supported  by  free  gifts, 
attended  by  free,  voluntary  pupils.  Xo  penny  of  the  salary  of 
its  teachers  is  exacted  by  the  tax-gatherer  from  unwilling  hands 
to  pay  far  a  project  or  an  inculcation  which  they  disapprove. 
Your  "free  schools,"  like  not  a  few  of  the  other  pretensions  of 
Radicalism,  are  in  fact  exactly  opposite  to  the  name  falsely  as- 
sumed. The  great  bulk  of  those  who  pay  the  money  for  them 
da  it,  not  "freely,"  but  In-  compulsion.  They  are  virtually 
thrust  down  our  throats  by  the  bayonet.  And  the  exemplars 
you  most  boast  and  imitate  not  only  make  the  payment  compul- 
sory, but  tlie  attendance  also,  as  your  consistency  will  doubtless 
cause  you  to  da  in  Virginia  also  in  a  few  years.  The  only  free- 
dom of  3'our  system  is  your  freedom  to  CDinpel  other  people's 
money. 

Your  attacks  on  me  breathe  a  great  glorying  in  tlie 
strength  of  your  party.  Their  tone  seems  to  cr^-:  "Oh.  vain 
man;  seest  thou  not  that  thou  resistest  the  inevitable'?  ^Yith 
us  are  all  Kaisers,  and  all  demagogues,  and  all  their  minions, 
and  all  tax-gatherers,  and  all  tax-consumers.  Who  art  thou 
against  so  manj'?"  Well,  perhaps,  nobody.  But  it  is  precise- 
ly in  this  that  every  prudent,  reflecting  Virginian  sees  the  con- 
clusive argument  against  your  plan.  Our  true  statesmen  al- 
ways taught  us  that  government  should  not  be  allowed  to  go 
into  any  project  aside  from  its  direct,  legitimate  ends,  especially 
if  that  project  would  subsidize  many  persons  and  create  for 
them  a  motive  of  personal  advantage  to  uphold  it.  Because 
whenever  that  project  might  be  wrested  to  mischief,  these  in- 
terested motives  might  prevent  a  wholesome  and  necessary 
repeal.  Such  is  precisely  the  case  with  your  project.  It  has  be- 
come mischievous  and  tyrannical,  in  that  it  forces  on  us  the  use- 
less, impracticable,  and  dishonest  attempt  to  teach  literary  arts 
to  all  negroe;?;,  when  the  State  is  unaible  to  pay  its  debts  and 
provide  for  its  welfare,  and  has  just  been  despoiled  of  its  pos- 


THE  STATE  FREE  SCHOOL  SYSTEM.        19;4 

sessions  by  violence.  And  just  so  soon  as  a  feeble  voice  is 
raised  against  this  wrong,  you  flaunt  before  us  this  fact,  that 
the  vicious  system  has  corrupted  and  subsidized  so  many 
minds  that  the  friends  of  right  are  powerless!  Why,  this  is  the 
very  demonstration  that  I  am  right.  This  is  the  crowning  con- 
demnation of  your  system. 

You  seem  also  to  think  I  wrote  with  great  severity.  I  did 
write  with  great  severity  in  one  sense.  How  came  you  to  over- 
look the  fact,  which  every  dispassionate  reader  saw,  that  my 
severity  was  all  aimed,  not  at  Virginia,  but  at  her  conquerors 
and  oppressors?  Was  it  because  you  found  yourself  in  fuller 
sympathy  with  those  conquerors  than  with  your  oppressed  fel- 
low-citizens? Take  heed,  lest  some,  less  your  friends  than  I, 
should  conclude  so. 

Xotwithstading  Aour  glorying,  then,  I  mean  once  more  to 
assert  the  unfashionable  truth.  Truth  is  never  out  of  date.  It 
has  sometimes  happened  that  a  tentative  experience  has  thrown 
so  much  light  upon  a  bad  system  as  to  re-open  the  discussion 
with  better  guidance  than  the  previous.  If  the  American  peo- 
ple, after  enjoying  thisliepraised  system,  are  so  deficient  in  can- 
dor and  intelligence  that  they  cannot  review  and  amend  wrong 
action,  this  is  suflSciently  convictive  of  the  worthlessness  of  the 
plan. 

Let  me  also,  at  the  outset,  arrest  all  invidious  outcry  by  say- 
ing that  I  am  an  advocate  of  the  most  universal  education  possi- 
ble, provided  it  be  true  education.  I  heartily  recognize  all  the 
teachings  of  the  golden  rule,  of  philanthrophy,  and  of  equality 
(so  far  as  equality  is  righteous),  which  prompt  us  to  desire  for 
all  our  fellow-creatures,  so  far  as  possible,  all  the  advantages  of 
culture  we  value  for  ourselves — and  that  without  distinguish- 
ing against  classes.  Let  me  say,  once  for  all,  /  am  an  advocate 
for  the  State's  providing,  if  necessary,  all  the  aid  for  poor  chil- 
dren's schooling  which  is  realty  desirable  and  will  be  really  util- 
ized by  them— that  is,  T'POX  THE  OLD  VIRGINIA  PLAN.  1 
wish  to  satisfy  the  rao.st  overweening  by  the  express  admission 
that  universal  education  would  ibe  a  good  thing,  were  it  practica- 
ble. The  argument  is  that  under  that  proAidential  order  which 
God  has  imposed  upon  society,  the  effectual  literary  education 
of  all  is  impossible,  and  therefore  the  promise  of  it  is  delusive 
and  mischevious,  and  that  when  the  State  is  an  American  demo- 


194  THE  STATE  FREE  SCHOOL  SYSTEM. 

cracy,  especially,  it  is  no  safe  or  suitable  agent  for  doing  the 
work. 

We  begin  by  reasserting  the  familiar  objection,  so  often 
contemptuously  dismissed,  that  the  principle  upon  which  the 
State  intrudes  into  the  parental  obligation  and  function  of  edu- 
cating all  children,  is  dangerous  and  agrarian.  It  is  the  teach- 
ing of  the  Bible  and  of  sound  political  ethics  that  the  education 
of  children  belongs  to  the  sphere  of  the  family  and  is  the  duty  of 
the  parents.  The  theory  that  the  children  of  the  Common- 
wealth are  the  charge  of  the  Coinmonwealth  is  a  pagan  one, 
derived  from  heathen  Sparta  and  Plata's  heathen  republic,  and 
connected  by  regular,  logical  sequence  with  legalized  i»rostitu- 
tion  and  the  dissolution  of  the  conjugal  tie.  The  dispensation 
of  Divine  Providence  determines  the  social  grade  and  the  cul- 
ture of  children  on  their  reaching  adult  age  by  the  diligence  and 
faithfulness  of  their  parents,  just  as  the  pecuniary  condition  of 
children  at  that  epoch  is  determined.  The  desire  of  procuring 
for  their  children  a  desirable  condition  in  all  these  respects  is 
the  grand  stimulus  which  Providence  has  provided  for  the  ef- 
forts of  parents.  It  is  His  ordination  that  youth  shall  inherit 
the  status  provided  for  them  by  their  parents,  and  improved  it  by 
their  own  exertions  as  aided  by  the  Christian  philanthropy  of 
their  fellow-men.  Now,  by  what  apology  does  the  State  (not  an 
evangelical,  nor  an  eleemosynary  institute  by  its  nature)  justify 
itself  in  stepping  in  to  revolutionize  that  order?  By  the  plea 
that  it  (the  State)  is  so  vitally  interested  in  the  iutelligent-e  of 
Ihe  citizens  that  this  entitles  her  to  take  etfectual  means  for  pre- 
venting their  ignorance.  See,  now,  whither  this  assumption 
leads.  The  morality  of  the  citizens  is  far  more  essential  to  the 
welfare  of  the  State;  and  the  only  etfectual  basis  for  morals  is 
the  Christian  religion.  Therefore  the  State  would  ibe  yet  more 
bound  to  take  order  that  all  youth  be  taught  Christianity.  And 
this  is  just  the  argument  by  which  Dr.  Chalmers  and  Mr.  Glad- 
stone (before  his  political  somersaults  began)  strenuously  de- 
fended church  establishments.  Again,  physical  destitution  of 
the  citizens  is  as  dangerous  to  the  State  as  ignorance;  therefore 
the  St:ate  would  be  entitled  to  interfere  for  her  own  protection 
and  repair  that  calamitous  condition  of  destitution  which  their 
own  and  their  jwrents'  vices  and  laziness  have  entailed  on  a 
part  of  the  people,  by  confiscating,  for  their  relief,  the  honestly- 


THE  STATE  FREE  SCHOOL  SYSTEM.        195 

eariR'il  in-opin-ry  of  the  vii-ruons  and  llii-ifiy  aud  iIhmi-  childi-eii. 
Tile  last  two  infei-ciices  are  precisely  as  fair  as  tlie  first.  Prin- 
ciples always  bear  their  fruits;  aud  the  friends  of  this  principle 
will  in  due  time  become  consistent,  and  claim  at  least  the  last 
inference,  along-  with  the  first.  They  are  not  liktdy  to  adopt 
the  second,  because  the  culture  and  ethics  of  the  ''common 
scho'ol"'  will  leave  them,  after  a  time,  too  corrupt  and  atheistic 
to  recog-nize  the  value  of  morality  or  its  source — the  Christian 
religion. 

We  often  hear  this  apology  for  the  i^tate's  wholesale  intrus- 
ion into  education  advanced  with  the  exactness  of  a  conmier- 
cial   transaction.     They  say:     "It   costs   less   money   to  build 
school-houses  than  jails."     But  what  if  it  turns  out  that  the 
State's  exipenditure  in  school-house  is  one  of  the  things  which 
necessitates  the  expenditure  in  jails?     The  fruits  of  the  system 
show  that  such  is  the  result,  and  hence  the  plea  for  the  State's 
intrusion  is  utterly  delusive.     The  regular  result  of  the  kind  of 
education  which  alone  it  can  give  is  to  propagate  crime.     Alli- 
son's History  of  Europe  states  that  forty  years  ago  two-thirds 
of  the  inhabitants  of  France  could  neither  read  nor  write.     In 
Prussia,  at  the  same  time,  the  government  had  made  secular  ed- 
ucation almost  universal,  by  compelling  parents  to  send  their 
children  to  school  from  seven  to  fourteen  years  of  age.     Statis- 
tics of  the  two  countries  show  that  serious  crime  was  at  tliat 
time  fourteen    times  as  prevalent    in  intelligent  I'russia  as  in  ig- 
noi-ant  France — volume  V.,  page  15.     Again  it  has  been  found 
from  the   official  j-ecords  of  the  S6  departments  of  France 
that  the  amount  of  crime  has,  without  a  single  exception,  been 
in  proportion  to  the  amount  of  scholastic  instruction  given    in 
each.     Again,  we  are  told  that  much  the  largest  number  of  the 
lewd  women  of  Paris  come  from  those  departments  where  there 
is  most  instruction.     In  Scotland  the  educated  criminals  are  to 
the  uneducated  as  four  and  a  half  to  one.    M.  De  To(iU(Mille  i-e- 
marked  of  the  United  States  that  crime  increased  most  rajddly 
where  there  was  most  instruction.     The  ancients  testify  that  the 
moral  condition  of  the  ''Barbarians"  was  comparatively  ])ure 
'beside  that  of  the  Greeks  and  Romans,  and  that  the  most  refined 
cities  were  the  most  corrupt.     But  let  us  bring  the  comparison 
nearer  home.     The  Northern  States  of  the  Union  had  previous- 
ly to  the  war  all  adopted  the  system  of  universal  State  schools, 


196  THE  STATE  FREE  SCHOOL  SYSTEM. 

and  the  Southern  States  had  not.  In  1850  the  former  had  tliir 
teen  and  a  half  millions  of  people,  and  twentj-three  thousand 
six  hundred  and  sixtj-four  criminal  CDnvictions.  The  South 
(without  State  schools)  had  nine  and  a  half  millions,  and  two 
thousand  nine  hundred  and  twentv-one  criminal  convictions — 
that  is  to  say,  after  allowing  for  the  difference  of  pDpulation, 
the  "educated"  masses  were  something  more  than  six  times  as 
criminal  as  the  "uneducated."  The  same  year  the  Xorth  was 
supporting  114,700  paupers,  and  the  South  20,500.  The  "unin- 
telligent"' South  was  something  more  than  four  times  as  well 
qualified  to  prDvide  for  its  own  subsistence  as  the  "intelligent" 
Xorth:  But  Massachusetts  is  the  native  home  of  the  public 
school  in  America.  In  Boston  and  its  adjacent  county  the  per- 
sons in  jails,  houses  of  correction  or  refuge,  and  in  alms-houses 
bore  among  the  whites  the  ratio  of  one  to  every  thirty-four. 
(Among  the  wretched,  free  blacks  it  was  one  to  every  sixteen.) 
In  Eichmond,  the  capital  of  "benighted"  Virginia,  the  same  un- 
happy classes  bore  the  ratio  of  one  to  every  one  hundred  and 
twelve.  Such  are  the  lessons  of  fact.  Indeed,  it  requires  only 
the  simpliest  ocular  inspection  to  convince  any  observer  that 
the  economical  plea  for  State  schools  is  illusory.  In  the  South 
State  school-houses  were  unknown,  and  consequently  jails  and 
penitentiaries  were  on  the  most  confined  and  humble  scale.  The 
North  is  studded  over  with  grand  and  costly  public  school-hous- 
es, and  her  jails  are  even  more  "palatial"  in  extent  and  more 
numerous  than  they. 

All  such  promiscuous  efforts  to  educate  the  whole  masses 
by  any  secular  authority  must  disappoint  our  hopes,  and  result 
in  mischief,  for  a  second  reason.  It  finds  its  illustration  in  the 
homely  proverb,  that  "while  one  man  may  lead  a  horse  to  water 
a  hundred  cannot  make  him  drink."  True  education,  taken  in 
any  extent  of  its  meaning,  broad  or  narrow,  is  so  greatly  a  moral 
process  that  a  certain  amount  of  aspiration  and  desire  in  its  sub- 
ject is  an  absolute  prerequisite.  The  horse  may  be  drenched, 
but  that  is  not  drinking;  and  the  drench  is  not  nourishment  to 
be  assimilated,  but  medicine.  So,  a  knowledge  of  letters  may  be 
"exhibited"  (as  the  medical  men  phrase  it)  to  the  resisting  or 
apathetic  mind;  but  there  is  no  assimilation. of  the  mental  pabu- 
lum and  no  recruitment  of  spiritual  strength.  Something  else 
must  be  first  done,  then,  besides  building  and  equipping  a  school 


THE    STATE   FREE   SCHOOL   SYSTEM.  197 

for  souls  which  are  in  this  State;  and  that  is  something  which 
the  State  can  never  do— at  least  not  by  its  schools.  The  moral 
aspiration  and  virtuous  aims  must  be  present,  which  alone  will 
utilize  a  knowledge  of  letters.  This  is  very  plain.  Now,  it  will 
be  found  generally  true  that  in  this  country  it  is  precisely  the 
cliildren  of  those  who  are  presumed  to  need  State  education,  and 
for  whom  the  provision  is  chiefly  designed,  who  are  in  this  un- 
prepared condition.  If  the  State  contained  no  children  save 
those  of  parents  who  had  the  intelligence,  the  virtue,  the  aspir- 
ation, and  also  the  property,  or  else  the  industry,  which  would 
make  them  resolved  and  a/ble  to  educate  their  own,  then,  of 
course,  it  would  be  wholh'  superfluous  for  the  Government  to  in- 
terfere. But  these  are  the  only  children  to  whom  letters  are,  in 
the  general  a  real  means  of  culture  or  elevation.  Separate  those 
wdio,  in  our  fruitful  laud  have  neither  aspiration,  nor  industry, 
nor  property  enough  to  insure  that  they  will  educate  their  own 
children,  and  in  those  children  we  usually  find  preciselj^  that 
apathetic  and  hopeless  condition,  which  renders  this  means  nu- 
gatory, or  worse.  The  parents  are  the  real  architects  of  their 
children's  destiny,  and  the  State  cannot  help  it.  There  are,  of 
course,  exceptions.  There  are  meritorious  parents  reduced  by 
exceptional  calamities  to  destitution,  and  there  are  a  few 
"rough  diamonds"  unearthed  in  the  unlikely  mines  of  grovelling 
families.  Such  exceptions  should  be  provided  for;  but  wise 
legislators  do  not  make  universal  systems  to  reach  exceptional 
cases. 

The  law  which  we  assert  is  accounted  for  by  several  jiracti- 
cal  causes.  Parents  who  remain  too  poor  and  callous  to  educate 
their  own  children  are  so  because  they  are  ignorant,  indolent, 
unaspiring,  and  vicious.  The  children's  characters  are  usually 
as  much  the  progeny  of  the  parents  as  their  bodies.  Again: 
The  aspiration,  \irtuous  desire,  and  energy  of  the  parents  are  ab- 
solutely essential  to  supply  that  impulse,  w^hich  the  child's  mind 
requires  to  overrule  its  youthful  heedlessness,  and  to  impel  it  to 
employ  and  assimilate  its  otherwise  usele.ss  acquisitions.  And 
once  more:  The  home  education  is  so  much  more  potential  than 
that  of  the  school,  that  the  little  modicum  of  training  which  a 
"common-school"  system  can  give  to  the  average  masses  is  ut- 
terly trivial  and  impotent  as  a  means  of  reversing  the  child's  ten- 
dency.    That  which  costs  nothing  is  never  valued.     Old  kludge 


198  THE  STATE  FREE  SCHOOL  SYSTEM. 

Bnell,  of  Albany,  placed  a  sack  of  a  new  variety  of  beautiful 
wheat  upon  the  counter  of  the  pa^ilion  at  a  gre^it  agricultural 
fair,  with  a  label  inviting  every  farmer  to  take  one  quart  as  a 
gratuity,  for  seed.  At  night  the  sack  was  almost  untouched. 
The  old  gentleman  fretted  at  this  result,  took  it  the  second  day 
to  the  booth  of  a  seeds  man,  and  directed  Mm  to  sell  it  at  two 
dollars  per  quart.  It  was  at  once  bought  up  greedily.  One  of 
the  best  teachers  we  ever  knew  determined  to  devote  his  latter 
years  to  the  pliilanthropic  work  of  teaching  a  gratuitous  school 
for  his  neighbors.  In  a  few  mjuths  it  had  dwindled  to  five  pu- 
pils, and  died  a  natural  death  ^^^thin  a  year.  There  is  a  natural 
liumiliation  also  in  being  c-ompelled  to  accept  the  provision  of 
ehai-ity,  or  of  the  KState.  for  that  which  conscience  tells  parents 
Is  obligatory  on  them.  These  reasons  accjunt  for  the  fact, 
which  the  advocates  of  public  schools  so  desire  to  hide,  that  thu 
children  do  not  attend,  and  the  parents  do  not  care  to  make  them 
attend.  He  who  goes  ''behind  the  scenes"  in  the  Northern 
States  knows  how  extensiveh'  this  is  true.  The  rising  move- 
nun  t  for  a  '"compnlsory  education'''  is  a  confession  of  this  fact. 
The  unwilling  disclosure  of  the  failure  of  the  system  is  the  only 
thing  this  new  movement  will  effect;  for  its  folly  is  clear  from 
this  simple  thought,  that  it  contravenes,  worse  than  all.  the  ax- 
iom: ''One  man  can  lead  the  horse  to  water,"  etc.  Hence  it  re- 
sults, that  the  class  which  is  low  enough  to  need  this  State  aid, 
is  one  whicli  usually  cannot  be  elevated  by  it.  But  the  abor- 
tive effort  will  awaken  other  intiuences.  as  we  shall  .see.  which 
are  likely  to  make  the  children  more  miserable  and  less  innocent 
than  their  ignorant  parents. 

Must  the  philanthropist,  then,  submit  to  the  conclusion 
that  ignorance  and  its  consequences  must  needs  be  hereditary, 
and  that  knowledge,  culture,  and  virtue  are  not  to  be  extended 
beyond  the  fortunate  youth  for  whom  their  parents  secure  them? 
We  reply:  this  sad  law  does  hold,  and  must  hold  to  a  far  wider 
extent  than  our  over-weening  zeal  is  willing  to  acknowledge. 
Yet  its  rigor  may  be  relaxed  but  not  by  the  meddling  of  the  civil 
magistrate  or  the  arm  of  legislation.  The  agency  must  be  so- 
cial and  Christian.  The  work  must  be  done  by  laying  hold  of 
the  sentiments,  hearts,  and  consciences  of  i>arents  and  children 
together — not  through  their  grammatical  and  arithmerical  fac- 
ulties.    The  agents  for  this  blessed  work  are    ihe   neighbor  and 


THE   STATE   FKEE   SCHOOL    SYSTEM.  199 

the  church.  Oliristian  charity  and  zeal,  with  the  potent  social 
influences  descending'  from  superioi'is  to  inferiors,  in  a  society 
which  is  practically  a  kindly  and  liberal  aristocracy;  these  may 
break  the  reign  'of  ignorance  and  unaspiring  apathy.  The  State 
cannot;  the  work  is  above  its  sphere. 

Very  i-espectf ully,  your  obedient  servant, 

R.  L.  DABNEY. 


DR.  DABXEY  AGAIX. 


Universal  Education  as  Involving  the  Idea  of  the  Leveller — All 
cannot  Aspire  to  the  Highest  Stations — Manual  Labor  or 
Savagery  the  Destiny  of  the  Major  Part — Fancy  Philan- 
thropists—  The  Common  School  Alumni — Theological 
Quacks — A  Little  Learning  a  Dangerous  Thing. 


II. 


Hampden  Sidney,  Va..  Apiil  22.  1876. 
To  W.  H.  Ruffner,  Esq.,  Superintendent  of  State  Schools: 

Dear  Sir. — In  the  third  place  this  theory  of  universal  edu- 
cation in  letters  by  the  State  involves  the  absurd  and  impossi- 
ble idea  of  the  Leveller,  as  thjugh  it  were  possible  for  all  men 
to  have  equal  destini€«  in  human  society.  It  is  a  favorite  pro- 
position with  the  asserters  of  these  so-called  American  ideas, 
that  "every  American  boy  should  improve  himself  as  though  he 
might  some  day  be  President  of  the  United  States."'  That  is  to 
say,  the  system  supposes  and  fosters  a  universal  discontent  with 
the  allotments  of  Providence,  and  the  inevitable  graduations  of 
rank,  possessions  and  privilege.  It  is  too  obvious  to  need  many 
words,  that  this  temper  is  anti-Christian;  the  Bible,  in  its  whole 
tone,  inculcates  the  opposite  spirit  of  modest  contentment  with 
our  sphere,  and  directs  the  honorable  aspiration  of  the  good 
man  to  the  faithful  performance  of  its  duties,  rather  than  to  the 
amibitious  purpose  to  get  out  of  it  and  above  it.  It  may  be  ask- 
ed, does  not  the  Bible  recognize  that  fact,  so  pleasing  to  every 
generous  mind,  that  the  lower  ranks  now  and  then  produce  a 
youth  worthy  of  the  highest?  Yes,  David  was  taken  from  the 
sheep-folds  to  be  Israel's  most  glorious  king.  But  the  Bible- 
idea  is  (and  David's  was  a  case  precisely  in  point)  that  the  hum- 
ble boy  is  to  exhibit  this  fitness  for  a  nobler  destiny,  not  by  dis- 
content and  greedy  cravings,  but  by  his  exemplary  performances 
in  his  lower  lot;  and  that  Providence  and  his  fellow-citizens  are 

1 Appeared  in  Riclvn'^nd  Enquirer  -00 


THE  STATE  FREE  SCHOOL  SYSTEM.        201 

to  call  him  to  "come  up  higher."  For  these  instances  of  native 
merit,  which  are  usually  few,  the  State  has  no  need  to  legislate. 
They  will  rise  of  themselves.  The}'  cannot  ibe  kept  down,  pro- 
vided only  we  do  not  legislate  against  them,  but  leave  them  the 
carriere  euverte  aux  talents;  or,  if  they  will  be  the  'better  for  any 
provision,  it  should  be  exceptional,  as  they  are  exceptional  cases. 
With  this  exception,  it  is  utterly  false  that  every  American 
boy  maj'  aspire  to  the  higher  stations  of  life.  In  the  lottery  of 
life  these  prizes  must  be  relatively  few — only  a  few  can  reach 
them.  Xor  is  it  right  or  practicable  to  give  to  all  boys  an  ''even 
start"  in  the  race  for  them.  The  State,  of  cour.se,  should  not  leg- 
islate to  the  disadvantage  of  an}-  in  this  race;  but  we  mean  that 
Providence,  social  laws,  and  parental  virtues  and  efforts,  do  in- 
evitably legislate  in  favor  of  some  classes  of  boys  in  their  start 
in  that  race,  and  if  the  State  undertakes  to  countervail  that  leg- 
islation of  nature  by  levelling  action,  the  attempt  is  wicked,  mis- 
chievous, and  futile.  The  larger  part  of  everj-  civilized  people 
is,  and  ever  will  be,  addicted  to  i-egular,  manual  labor.  The  idea 
that  the  diffusion  of  intelligence  and  improvement  of  the  arts 
are  so  to  lighten  the  doom  of  labor,  that  two  or  three  hours' 
work  daily  will  provide  for  the  wants  of  all,  and  leave  the  low- 
est laborer  the  larger  part  of  his  day  for  intellectual  pursuits,  is 
a  preposterous  dream.  Let  experience  decide.  Does  the  pro- 
gress of  modern  civilization  tend  to  exact  "shorter  hours'"  of  its 
laborers  than  the  barbarous  state?  Human  desires  always  out- 
run human  means.  If  this  Utopian  era  is  ever  to  come,  when 
two  or  three  hours  of  the  artisan's  time  will  be  worth  a  day's 
work,  the  artificial  wants  of  him  and  his  family  will  have  outrun 
him,  in  demanding  the  expenditure  of  five  or  six  days'  wages  in 
one.  The  laborer  will  still  find  a  motive  for  working  all  day  as 
now — unless  he  turn  loafer!  And  the  last  words  remind  us, 
that  theinexoraible  law  of  nature  we  have  just  pointed  out  is,  on 
the  whole,  a  -beneficent  one;  for  it  is  necessary  to  prevent  man- 
kind from  abusing  their  leisure.  The  leisure  conferred  by 
wealth  is  now  often  abused.  So  would  that  secured  for  the 
poor,  by  this  fancied  wealth  of  intelligence,  be  yet  more  abused; 
and  the  six  or  eight  hours  redeemed  from  manual  toil  Avould 
be  devoted,  not  to  intellectual  pursuits,  but  to  wasteful  and  de- 
grading vices.  And  these  vices  would  .soon  rivet  again  the  yoke 
of  constant  labor  upon  their  necks,  or  the  fetters  of  the  jail  or 


202         THE  STATE  FREE  SCHOOL  SYSTEM. 

house  of  correctioii.  We  repeat:  The  destiny  of 
the  major  part  of  the  human  family  is  the  alternative  of  manual 
labor  or  savagery. 

Now,  no  people  will  ever  connect  a  real  pursuit  of  mental 
culture  with  the  lot  of  constant  manual  labor.  The  two  are  in- 
compatible. Neither  time,  nor  taste,  n3r  strength,  nor  energy  of 
brain  will  be  found  for  both.  Have  not  all  manual-labor 
schools  been  failures?  The  man  that  works  all  day  (usually) 
does  not  study.  Tlie  nerve-force  has  been  expended  (in  the  mus- 
cles, aud  none  is  left  for  mental  effort.  Hence,  we  care  not  how 
universally  the  State  may  force  the  arts  of  penmanship  and 
reading  on  the  children  of  laborers,  when  these  become  laboring 
men  they  will  cease  to  read  and  write;  they  will  practically  dis- 
use the  arts  as  cumbersome  and  superfluous.  This  is  a  fact  at 
which  your  enthusiast  for  common  schools  is  very  loath  to  look; 
but  it  is  a  stubborn  one.  The  laboring  classes  in  States  which 
profess  to  give  a  universal  education  do  not  make  any  more 
beneficial  use  of  letters,  than  those  elsewhere.  Prussia  has  for 
more  than  a  generation  com,pelled  all  her  peasantry  to  go  to 
school;  but  she  is  full  of  middle-aged  peasants  who  have  forgot- 
ten how  to  read,  and  who,  in  fact,  never  read.  In  boasted  Mas 
sachusetts  herself  tin-  very  supenntt^ndents  of  the  free  schools 
lament  that  the  State  has  more  thau  ever  of  labaring  poor,  espe- 
cially among  the  agi-icultural  laborers,  wlio  neither  know  nor 
care  anything  concei-ning  letters,  for  tliemselves  or  their  chil- 
dren. The  denyers  of  these  stubborn  facts  are  only  the  flatter- 
ers, not  the  friends,  of  the  laborers. 

Again  our  fancy-philanthropist  will  raise  his  out-cry,  that  if 
these  riews  are  admitted  they  condemn  more  than  half  of  our 
fellow-creatures  to  a  Boeotian  stupidity  and  mental  darkness. 
We  might  answer,  first,  that  his  expedients  are  futile  to  reverse 
that  doom.  The  only  difference  ^between  him  and  us  is,  that 
he  is  to3  quixotic,  or  uncandid,  or  interested,  to  admit  the  fact, 
(rod  has  made  a  social  sub-soil  to  the  top-soil,  a  s^ocial  founda- 
tion in  the  dust,  for  the  superstructure — the  Utopian  cannot  un- 
make it,  least  of  all  by  his  patchwork.  But  tliere  is  a 
second  answer;  he  fargets  that  the  use  of  letters  is  not  educa- 
tion, but  only  oue  means  of  education,  and  not  the  only  means. 
The  laboring  classes  find  their  appropriate  mental  and  moral 
cultivation  in  their  tasks  themselves,  aud  in  the  example  aud  in- 


THE  STATE  FREE  SCHOOL  SYSTEM.  208 

fliieuce  of  the  superiors  for  whom  they  hib^r.  The  plough-mau 
or  artisan  cultivates  his  mental  faculties  most  appropriately  in 
acquiring'  skill  and  resource  for  his  work.  He  trains  the  moral 
virtues  'by  the  fidelity  and  endurance  with  which  he  ]jerformvS 
that  work.  He  ennobles  his  taste  and  sentiments  by  hiokiug  up 
t  J  the  superior  who  employs  him.  If  to  these  influences  you  add 
the  awakening,  elevating,  expanding  force  (>f  (Miristian  princi- 
ples, you  have  given  rliar  laborer  a  true  education — a  hundred 
fold  more  true,  m  )re  suitable,  more  useful,  than  the  communica- 
tiion  of  certain  literary  arts,  which  he  will  almost  necessarily 
disuse.  Let  the  i-eader  recall  that  brilliant  passage  of  Macaulav, 
as  just  as  brilliant,  in  which  he  shows,  against  Dr.  Johnson,  that 
the  Athenian  populace,  without  books,  was  a  highly-cultivated 
people.  Let  him  remember  how  entirely  the  greatnesis  of  the 
feudal  barons  in  the  middle  ages,  was  dissociated  from  all 
"clerkly  arts;"  yet  they  were  warrioi-s.  statesnu^n.  poets,  and 
gentlemen.  So,  our  awn  country  presents  an  liumbler  instance 
in  the  moi'e  respectable  of  the  African  fieeilmen.  Tens  of 
thousands  of  these,  ignorant  of  letters,  but  trained  to  i)ractical 
skill,  thought,  and  resource,  by  intelligent  masters,  and  imitat- 
ing" their  superior  breeding  and  sentiments,  present,  in  every 
aspect,  a  far  "higher  style  of  man"  than  yonr  Yankee  laborer 
frr>m  his  common  school,  with  his  shallow  smattering  and  pur- 
blind conceit,  and  his  wretched  news})aper  stutfed  with  moral 
garbage  from  the  police-courts,  and  with  false  and  ])oisi)nous 
heresies  in  politics  and  religion.  Put  such  a  man  in  the  same 
arena  with  the  Southern  slave  frcnn  a  respectable  i)lantation. 
and  in  one  week's  time  the  ascendancy  of  the  Xegr).  in  self-res- 
pect, courage,  breeding,  prowess  and  ]>ractical  intelligtmce,  will 
assert  itself  paljjably  to  the  Yankee  and  to  all  spectators.  The 
slave  was.  in  fact,  the  educated  man. 

Let  it  be  granted,  as  we  have  just  implied,  that  there  is  a 
certain  use  which  this  alumnus  of  the  common  school  may  con- 
tinue to  make  of  his  kn jv.ledge  of  letters.  This  g-ives  us  our 
strongest  argument.  Then  the  common  schools  will  have  cre- 
ated a  numerous  "public"  of  readers  one-<iuarter  or  one-tenth 
cultivated;  and  the  sure  result  will  be  the  i)roduction  for  their 
use  :)f  a  false,  shallow,  sciolist  literature,  science,  and  rlieojogy, 
infinitely  worse  than  blank  ignorance.  "^Vheresoever  the  car- 
cass is,  thither  will  the  eagles  be  gathered  together."    This  will 


204         THE  STATE  FREE  SCHOOL  SYSTEM. 

be  the  sure  result  of  the  law  of  supply  and  demand  inspired  bv 
a  mercenary  spirit.  Formerly  literature  was  for  the  educated ; 
it  was  their  occupation,  and  they  formed  the  constituency  for 
whom  the  producers  lof  literature  labored;  consequently  the  lit- 
erature of  the  civilized  nations  was  characterized  by  all  that 
was  most  decent  in  manner,  elevated  in  sentiment,  and  thor- 
ough and  just  in  argument,  of  which  their  society  could  boast. 
The  uneducated  or  quarter-educated  formed  no  direct  constitu- 
ency for  authors  and  publishers;  they  did  not  ibid  for  them,  or 
cater  ito  them.  These  unlettered  classes  received  their  ideas  of 
literary,  political,  philosophical,  and  theological  subjects  (the 
most  ignorant  virtually  have  their  politics,  philosophy,  and  the- 
ology), from  their  social  superiors,  through  social  channels.  And 
this  was  a  source  much  safer  than  the  present  "literature  for 
the  millions,''  because  much  higher,  purer,  and  more  disinterest- 
ed. The  consequence  was,  that  the  unlettered  classes  reflected 
the  opinions,  sentiments,  and  elevated  tone  of  the  uppermost 
stratum;  now  it  is  those  of  a  class  lower  and  mjore  sordid  than 
themselves.  Thus  the  Southern  overseer,  who  read  little  but 
his  Bible,  had  a  judgment  infinitely  better  trained,  a  moral  tone 
far  higher,  and  a  social,  political,  and  religious  creed  far  sounder 
than  the  modern  alumnus  of  your  ^'common  school,"  with  his 
Leveller's  arrogance  and  envy,  and  his  armful  of  cheap  news- 
papers. The  overseer  had  the  lauded  gentry  who  employed 
him  as  his  instructors  and  models,  and  through  them  drew  his 
.speculative  opinions  from  the  noblest  minds  of  the  South;  the 
Crawfords,  Cheves,  Madisons,  Barbours,  Randolphs,  Calhouns. 
The  common-school  alumnus  has  the  wretched  sciolists  and 
theological  quacks,  who  drive  their  sordid  trade  in  cheap  peri- 
odical literature.  The  advocates  of  the  Yan'kee  system  (boast  in 
it,  and  revile  the  old  one  in  that  the  latter  made  letters  the  pre- 
rogative of  the  few;  theirs  of  the  many.  But  letters  of  what 
sort?     Here  we  have  ''given  them  a  Roland  for  their  Oliver." 

We  appeal  to  facts.  Has  not  the  creation  of  tliis  large 
reading  (but  not  truly  educated)  public  occasioned  a  flood  of 
mischievous,  heretical,  sciolistic,  corrupting  literature?  The 
result  is  that  the  book  and  newspaper-making  tradi^  has,  for 
sordid  purposes,  brought  down  to  the  lower  classes  a  multitude 
of  speculations  on  the  most  dangerous  subjects,  with  which  no 
mind  is  prepared  to  deal  for  itself  and  independently,  until  it  is 


THE  STATte   t^REE  SCHOOL  SYSTEM.  205 

\'eiy  tliarougiilj  trained  aud  informed.  Tliat  tliorough  menial 
discipline  and  full  learning-  the  common  schools  can  never  give 
to  these  masses.  They  may  as  well  j^roniise  that  every  agrarian 
among  them  shall  be  an  Astor  or  a  Kothschild  in  wealth.  The 
state  of  European  and  Yankee  society  under  this  new  impulse 
illustrates  the  facts  we  assert.  The  smattering  which  State 
education  has  given  the  masses  has  but  been  to  them  the  open- 
ing of  Pandora's  box.  It  has  only  launched  them  in  an  ocean 
whicii  they  are  Incompetent  to  navigate.  (Every  manufactory 
i.-!  converted  into  a  debating  chib,  where  the  operatives  intoxi- 
cate their  minds  with  the  most  licentious  vagaries  of  opinions 
upon  every  fundamental  subject  of  politics  and  religion;  and 
they  have  only  knowledge  enough  to  run  into  danger,  without 
having  a  tenth  part  of  the  knowledge  necessary  to  teach  them 
their  danger  and  incompetenc3^  It  was  this  system 
which  prepared  the  way  for  the  "International  So- 
ciety," and  the  horrors  'of  the  Paris  Co??itnune.  So  far  are  these 
nations  from  being  healthily  illuminated,  they  are  an  easy  prey 
to  the  most  destructive  heresies,  social  and  religious;  and  their 
condition  is  far  more  unwholesome  and  volcanic,  with  a  more 
terrifying  prospect  of  social  dissolution,  anarchy,  and  blood- 
shed, than  was  ever  presented  by  the  ignorance  of  the  "middle 
ages."  So  obvious  was  this  tendency  to  thoughtful  minds  thir- 
ty-five years  ago  that  the  great  historian  Heerea,  with  his  inti- 
mate acquaintance  with  all  the  defects  of  mediaeval  society,  an- 
nounced the  deliberate  opinion  that  the  art  of  printing  was  des- 
tined to  be  more  a  curse  than  a  blessing  to  Europe.  It  is  not 
necessary  for  us  to  espouse  that  opinion;  here  is,  at  least,  a  fair 
instance  for  the  application  of  the  maxim  of  Pope,  now  so  uni- 
versally aud  disdainfully  ignored: 

"A  little  learniug  is  a  dangerous  thing, 
Drink  deep,  or  taste  not  the  Pierian  spring; 
For  shallow  draughts  intoxicate  the  brain, 
But  drinking  deeply  sobers  us  again." 

Th*-  amount  of  this  grave  objection  is  that  when  the  State 
interferes  in  the  work  of  common  school  education,  it  inevitably 
does  not  enough,  or  too  much.  To  give  tlial  large  learning  and 
thorough  discipline  necessary  for  setliug  tlic  uiiud  to  deal  inde- 


"206  THE   STATE   FREE   SCHOOL    SYSTEM. 

pendetrly  with  the  corrupt  labyrinth  of  modern  current  opinion 
is  bey;)nd  the  State's  power.  What  she  does  give  usually  pre- 
pares the  victims  for  the  literary  seducers. 

It  is  one  of  the  most  important  and  best  established  maxims 
of  social  science  that  influence  descends  Hence,  if  you  would 
■I>ermeate  the  whole  ix)pular  mass  with  any  wholesale  iuiluence, 
the  wisest  plan  is  tD  place  the  element  of  good  at  the  top,  that 
it  may  percKilate  downwards.  The  engineer,  when  he  wishes  to 
supply  the  humblest,  lowliest  lane  or  alley  of  a  city  with  pure 
water,  establishes  his  reservoir  upon  the  topmost  hill;  and 
thence  it  descends,  without  any  other  force  than  its  own  gravit^ . 
to  every  door  and  ever}-  lip.  So  the  most  etfectual,  the  most 
truly  philanthroipic  mode  for  elevating  the  lower  classes  of  so- 
ciety is  to  provide  for  the  rise  of  the  superior  class.  This  is  na- 
ture's process;  she  elevates  the  \thole  mass  (by  lifting  it  from 
above  so  that  all  the  parts  rise  together,  preserAing  that  relation 
of  places  on  whose  preservation  the  whole  organism  depends. 
The  fashionable  planis  to  place  the  leverunder  the  bottom  stones 
and  prize  them  to  the  level  of  the  cap-stones  of  which  the  result 
is  that  the  whole  structure  tumbles  into  rubbish.  The  establish- 
ment of  the  University  of  Virginia  for  giving  the  most  thorough 
training  to  advanced  scholars  has  been  the  most  truly  liberal 
measure  for  the  cultivation  of  the  masses  ever  adopted  in  the 
State.  It  teaches  only  a  few  hundred  of  young  men,  and  those 
only  in  the  highest  studies?  True,  but  in  giving  them  a  higher 
standard  of  acquirement  it  has  elevated  as  well  as  multiplied  all 
the  teachers  of  everj-  grade;  making  the  instruction  better,  down 
to  the  primary  schools  where  the  children  of  the  poor  learn  the 
rudiments  of  reading.  And  what  is  better  still,  it  has  made 
thorough  culture  resfjectaible,  and  diffused- honest  aspirations 
to  the  lowest  ranks.    Your  very  obedient  servant, 

R.  'L.  DABXEY. 


ANOTHER  DABNEY  BOLT  FOR  DR.  RUFFNER'vS  BENE- 
FIT. 


Overweening  Philanthropists — Decent  and  Vile  Children — 'The 
Danger  of  Disease — \Yhat  Dr.  Dahnej  Thinks  of  Southern 
NegTOes  as  Compared  with  Northern  l*oor  Wliites — Dema- 
gogues and  roliticians  and  Their  Relation  to  the  Free 
School  System — Tlie  Testimony  of  Webster,  Not  the  Dic- 
tionarj-  Man — An  Alternative  Horrible  to  Contemplate. 


III. 


Hampden  Sidney,  Va.,  A])ril  1*5,  1S7G. 
To  W.   H.Ruffner   Esq.,  Superintendent  of  Sta/e  Schools: 

Dear  Sir. — In  the  objections  thus  far  set  forth  there  are 
premises  which,  however  true  and  impregnalble,  are  now  so  un- 
fashionable that  with  many  they  will  meet  no  response  but  an 
angry  outcry.  The  application  of  them  would  denwlish  so 
man^-  vain  idols,  udw  much  cherrslied,  that  the  writer  cannot 
hope  for  a  hearing  even,  from  many  minds.  Time  must  be  the 
only  teacher  for  these  overweening  philanthropists.  When  they 
are  taught  by  liini  that  ithis  system  of  State  education  has  utter- 
ly failed  to  produce  the  benetits  they  designed,  and  has  fixed  on 
us  the  mischiefs  above  described,  tliey  will  learn  that  these  are 
the  words  of  truth  and  soberness.  But  we  puiii),)se  to  pi-esent 
three  other  points  of  objection  not  involving  the  principles  ex- 
pounded in  the  previous  part  of  this  discussion,  more  practical 
and  indisputable;  and  either  one  of  these  is  sufficient  f:)r  the  ut- 
ter condemnation  of  the  system. 

The  first  is,  that  if  a  system  of  universal  common  schools  is 
to  ibe  carried  out  in  good  faith,  there  must  be  a  mixture  of  the 
children  of  the  decent  and  the  children  of  the  \\\q  in  the  same 
society  during  the  most  plastic  age.     The  boast  is:  that  the  ed- 

1 Appeared  in  iJjcATCO?Jd /"r/jnVfr.  '^-^'> 


208         THE  StATE  FREE  SCHOOL  SYSTEM. 

ucation  is  to  be  for  all,  and  most  prominently  for  the  lowest  and 
most  i^orant,  because  they  need  it  most.  Then,  if  this  boast 
is  to  be  faithfully  realized,  all  the  moral  lepers  among  the  chil- 
dren of  a  given  district  must  be  thrust  into  the  society  of  our 
children  at  school.  In  order  to  receive  the  shallow  modicum  of 
letters  there  dispensed,  they  must  be  daily  brought  into  personal 
CDntact  with  the  cutaneous  and  other  diseases,  the  vermin — 
(Yes,  dear  reader,  it  is  disgusting!  We  would  spare  you  if  faith- 
fulness permitted;  but  tlie  foulness  belongs  to  the  plan,  not  to 
us) — the  obscenity,  the  profanity,  the  groveling  sentiments,  the 
violence  of  the  gamins,  with  which  our  boated  maternal  civili- 
zation teems  in  its  more  popubiis  places.  '  This  must  be  done, 
too,  at  the  tender  and  imitative  age  of  childhood.  Tlie  high, 
sacred  prerogative  of  the  virtuous  parent  to  choose  the  moral 
influences  for  his  own  beloved  offspring  must  be  sacrificed  to 
this  ruthless,  levelling  idol.  Every  experienced  teacher  knows 
that  pupils  educate  each  other  more  than  he  educates  them.  The 
thousand  nameless  influences — literary,  social,  moral— not  only 
of  the  play-ground  but  of  the  school-room,  the  whispered  conver- 
sation, the  clandestine  note,  the  sly  grimace,  the  sly  pinch,  the 
good  or  bad  recitation,  mould  the  plastic  character  of  children 
far  more  than  the  most  faithful  teacher's  hand. 

Now,  there  are  some  quarters  of  our  towns  and  ciiies.  and 
.S'ome  rural  neighborhoods,  where  this  difficulty  is  little  felt; 
either  because  the  limited  population  is  nearly  homogeneous,  or 
because  the  poor  are  decent  and  virtuous.  Especially  has  the 
latter  case  been  realized  in  many  country  communities  of  the 
&outh,  where  such  was  the  cleanliness,  propriety,  good  breed- 
ing, and  moral  elevation  of  the  poorer  families,  imbibed  from 
their  kindly  dependence  on  cultivated  superiors,  that  a  neigh- 
borhood school  could  be  made  to  include  all  the  white  children, 
without  serious  injury  to  the  morals  of  any.  But  the  levelling 
policy,  of  which  State  common  schools  are  a  constituent  mem- 
ber, now  claims  to  make  the  blacks  equal,  socially  and  political- 
ly, to  the  most  reputable  whites.  Against  the  .collection  of 
white  children  into  the  same  public  schools  with  Xegroes,  the 
very  principle  which  we  are  illustrating,  has  made  a  protest  so 
indignant  and  determined  that,  although  the  protest  of  the  con- 
quered, it  has  been  heard  in  all  the  Southern  States,  except 
Louisiana.     The  refusal  to  hear  it  there  resulted  in  the  absolute 


tHe  statk  free  school  system.       209 

hanishmcnl:  iif  the  children  of  the  white  citizens  from  the  schools 
supported  by  their  money.     And  this  pratest  has  not  been,  as 
the  enemy  and  conqueror  deems  it,  the  mere  expre.sislon  of  caste- 
pi*ejudice,  but  the  conscientious  demand  of  the  natural  rij>ht  to 
our  children  from  moral  contaminarion.     Here,  then,  we  have  a 
broad,  a  recognized  application  of  this  potent  objection  to  the 
State  system.     The  whole  Southern  jieople  make  the  objection; 
nearly  all  the  friends  of  State  education  admit  its  force  in  this 
case.    But  on  this  conceded  case  there  are  two  remarks  to    be 
made.     First,  the  concession  is  inconsistent  with  the  whole  the- 
ory of  State  schoiols  and  of  the  levelling  syvstem  to  which  they 
belong.     This  is  so  clearly  felt,  that  even  now  the  determined  ad- 
vocates of  State  education  are  candid  enough  to  fDreshadow  the 
withdrawal  of  the  concession,  speaking  of  it  as  an  arrangement 
"necessary  for  the  time  -being."     Is  it  your  opinion  that  this  con- 
cession should  be  yielded  ta  us  temporarily  or  permanently?    Do 
you  think  that  it  should  be  withdrawn  after  a  little,  when  all  the 
staunch  old  Confederates  like  me  have  died  out;  or  that  the  Ne- 
groes should  never  be     admitted  to  the  same  schools  as  the 
whites?     Yankeedom  and  Xegrodom  are  listening  for  your  con- 
sistent answer.     Second.     The  Sourheni  Negroes  are  a  less  de- 
graded and  vicious  race  than  many  large  elements  of  the  white 
poor,  who,  in  parts  of  the  North,  have  free  entrance  into  the 
common  schools  there.    Indeed,  the  force  of  the  social  objection 
is  felt  and  acted  on  by  numbers  of  the  Northern  peOiple.     Many 
are  the  blatant  advocates  of  the  system  among  the  people  of 
Ijroperty,  who  yet  dream  not  of  sending  their  own  children  to 
the  common  schools.    They  consult  their  popularity  by  pretend- 
ing to  advocate  the  system;  and  yet,  for  their  own  olTspring, 
rhey  will  not  so  much  as  touch  it  with  a  tip  of  their  fingers.  And 
many  are  the  Phariasaic  negrophobists  who  bereate  and  revile 
the  Southern  people^for  resisting  this  abhorrent  amalgamation 
of  their  children  with  blacks;  who  would  Hout  with  f;:»ul  scorn 
the  proposal  to  send  their  own  pampered  brats  to  the  common 
school  near  them  along  with  the  children  of  their  po:)r  white 
neighbors. 

Sometimes  it  is  asked,  "How  are  the  degraded  classes  to  be 
elevated  if  they  are  thus  to  be  denied  all  association  with  those 
better  than  themselves?"  We  reply  that  while  we  fully  recog- 
nize the  Christian  duty  of  seeking  the  degraded  and  of  drawing 


210        THE  STATE  FREE  SCHOOL  SYSTEM. 

them  up  to  purer  associations,  we  beg  leave  to  demur  against 
employing  our  innocent  and  inexperienced  children  as  the  mis- 
sionaries. The  braving  of  this  moral  contagion  is  the  proper 
work  of  mature  men  and  women  of  virtue;  and  these  are  to  ele- 
vate their  beneficiaries  by  holding  to  them  the  relation  of  bene- 
volent superiors,  not  of  comrades  and  equals  in  school-room 
and  play-ground.  It  is  claimed  that  it  is  the  teacher's  part  to 
prevent  those  "evil  communications  which  corrupt  good  man- 
ners." We  reply  that  it  is  impossible;  he  would  need  more  than 
the  hundred  hands  of  Briareus  and  the  hundred  eyes  of  Argus, 
with  more  moral  fidelity  than  falls  to  the  share  of  any  save 
apostles  and  martyrs.  Is  the  pittance  paid  to  a  common-school 
teacher  likely  to  purchase  all  these  splendid  endowments?  It  is 
said  that  if  a  fastidious  parent  does  not  like  the  social  atmos- 
phere of  the  common  school  he  may  pay  for  a  more  select  pri- 
vate one.  But  he  is  taxed  compulsorily  to  support  this  schooi 
which  parental  duty  forbids  him  to  use;  so  that  the  system  in 
this  case  amounts  to  an  iniquitous  penalty  upon  him  for  his 
faithfulness  to  his  conscience.  What  clearer  Instance  of  perse- 
cution could  arise?  Once  more  it  is  sneeringly  asked:  "Have 
children's  morals  never  been  corrupted  in  private  schools?" 
They  have,  alas,  often  been.  But  this  only  shows  our  argument 
stronger  instead  of  weaker;  for  it  proves  that  parental  vigilance 
as  to  the  moral  atmosphere  of  the  children's  comrades  needs  to 
be  greatly  increased;  while  this  system  insists  upon  extinguish- 
ing all  such  conscientious  watchfulness,  and  provides  the  pun- 
ishment of  a  mulct  for  its  exercise. 

The  second  objection  is  yet  more  damning  as  against  the 
system  of  State  schools  in  this  country.  They  are,  and  will  in- 
evitably be,  wielded  by  the  demagogues,  who  are  in  power  for 
the  time,  in  thp  interests  of  their  faction.  Here  is  a  danger  and 
a  curse  whic-i  lust  not  be  estimated  by  the  results  of  the  system 
in  any  other  country,  such  as  Scotland  or  Prussia.  In  the  for- 
mer kingdom  the  Presbyterian  system  of  parochial  schools  gave 
what  was  virtually  a  national  primary  education.  But  it  was  not 
obnoxious  to  this  perversion  to  factious  uses.  Scotland  is  a  lit- 
tle country,  and  was  then  almost  absolutely  homogeneous  in 
religion  and  polities;  the  government  was  a  stable,  hereditary 
monarchy,  of  the  change  of  which  there  was  neither  possibility 
nor  desire;  the  schools  were  controlled  by  the  parish  clergy  and 


THE   STATE   FREE   SCHOOL    SYSTEM.  211 

kirk  sessions,  parties  whose  attitude  was  at  once  independent, 
and  dissociated  from  political  objects  and  managers.  In  Prus- 
sia,  also,  we  see  a  permanent  military  monarchy  ruling  the  peo- 
ple with  a  uniformity  and  resistless  power  which  has  hitherto 
left  no  hope  to  the  demagogue.  It  is  very  true  that  this  mon 
archy  does  manipulate  the  i^tate  schools  in  the  interest  of  its 
own  perpetuity,  and  in  doing  so  inflicts  on  tlie  minds  of  the 
people  no  little  injury.  But  the  wrong  thus  done  is  as  white 
as  snow  compared  with  pitch,  when  set  against  the  foul  per- 
versions wrought  1)3'  our  demagogues  in  power.  For  an  old, 
stable  monarchy  is  always  infinitely  more  decent  and  moderate 
than  a  democratic  faction  in  America  rioting  on  the  spoils  of 
party  success.  The  teachings  of  the  monarchy,  if  self-interest- 
ed, are  at  least  conservative  and  consistent;  and  they  include 
a  respectal)le  knowledge  of  the  riiristian  religion.  It  will  be 
utterly  delusive,  therefore,  to  argue  for  the  value  of  State  com- 
mon schools  from  Scotland  or  I'russia.  Our  demagogues  will 
take  effectual  care  that  our  schools  shall  not  yield  us  even  the 
mixed  fruits  which  those  nations  have  reaped  from  theirs. 

For  what  is  it  on  which  American  politicians  do  not  lay 
their  harpy  hands  to  get  or  to  keep  the  spoils  of  office?  On  the 
offices  themselves,  which  the  law  has  instituted  for  the  public 
service;  on  finance;  on  commerce;  on  the  railroads;  on  the 
productive  industries  of  the  citizens;  on  taxation;  on  our  lioly 
religion  itself!  And,  like  the  harpies,  whatever  they  touch 
the}^  contaminate!  That  the  school  system  of  the  States  is  per- 
verted to  factions  and  sordid  ends  is  so  notorious  that  we  shall 
not  insult  the  intelligence  of  our  readers  by  many  testimonies. 
Has  not  the  supreme  official  of  the  school  system  in  the  State 
of  Indiana,  for  instance,  been  seen  to  publish  to  tlie  world  his 
unblushing  boast  that  he  had  successfully  arrested  the  whole 
machinery  to  inculcate  upon  all  the  children  of  that  State  the 
malignant  and  lying  creed  of  Radicalism?  And  this  man,  after 
satisfying  his  masters,  the  Radical  Legislature,  of  his  success 
in  placing  this  gospel  of  hate  and  murder,  and  these  utter  falsi- 
fications of  history  and  fact  and  constitutional  law,  in  the  ten- 
der hand  of  every  child  in  Indiana,  only  intimates,  in  the  most 
gingerly  and  apologetic  way,  a  faint  inclination  to  give  them 
the  Word  of  God:  which  yet,  he  hastens  to  assure  them,  he  had 
not  presumed  to  attempt!    Again,  these    omnipotent    school 


212  THE  STATE   FREE  SCHOOL  SYSTEM. 

boards,  under  the  plausible  pretext  of  uuit'oruiity  of  text-books, 
enter  into  alliances  with  capitalists  who  are  publishers  of  books 
(for  what  solid  consideration,  who  can  tell?),  giving  them  the 
monopoly  of  manufacturing  American  history,  ethics  and  poli- 
tics for  the  children  of  a  whole  ^tate,  without  leaving  any  op- 
tion to  the  parent.    This  single  feature,  presented  iby  the  alli- 
ance of  the  "Book-Trade"  with  the  Education  Boards,  is  suffi- 
cient to  condenm  the  whole  in  the  judgment  of  every  inde- 
pendent mind.    If  it  is  not  corrected  the  liberty  of  the  citizens 
is  gone.    In  some  of  those  Southern  States  where  the  Conserva- 
tives have  been  so, fortunate  as  to  retain  control  of  the  State 
governments  the  advocates  of  State  education  are  openly  heard 
attempting,  in  their  new-born  zeal,  to  reconcile  the  people  to  the 
measure  forced  upon  them  by  promising  that  it  shall  be  so 
manipulated  as  to  train  the  next  generation  of  negroes  to  vote 
with  the  Conservatives.    Now  the  temptation  of  the  oppressed 
to  foil  their  oppressors  may  be  very  strong;  and  they  may  be 
inclined  to  be  rather  unscrupulous  in  the  means    of    defense 
against  enemies  so  unscrupulous  and  abhorred  as  the  carpet- 
bag horde.    It  may  be  very  alluring  to  us  to  employ  this  tyran- 
nical system,  which  is  forced  upon  us  against  our  will,  to  the 
ruin  of  its  inventors,  and  thus  to  "hoist  the  engineer  with  his 
own  petard."     But  the  foreseeing  man  cannot  but  remember 
that  it  is  a  dangerous  force  which  is  employed,  and  that  on  any 
change  of  the  faction  in  power  what  we  hope  to  make  sauce  to 
the  (Radical)  goose  may  become  sauce  to  the  (Conservative) 
gander.    It  is  a  hazardous  game  for  good  people  to  attempt  to 
"fight  the  devil  with  fire." 

This  perversion  of  a  pretended  system  of  education  is  as  in- 
tolerable as  it  is  certain.  It  is  hard  enough  to  have  a  triumphant 
faction  rule  us  in  a  mode  which  outrages  our  sense  of  equity 
and  patriotism — shall  they  also  abuse  their  power  to  poison  the 
minds  of  our  own  children  against  the  principles  which  we 
honor,  and  to  infect  them  with  the  errors  which  we  detest?  Is 
it  not  enough  that  our  industries  must  all  be  burdened  and  our 
interests  blighted  by  the  selfish  expedients  of  demagogues 
grasping  after  power  and  plunder?  Must  the  very  souls  of  our 
children  be  made  merchandise  and  trafficked  with  in  the  same 
hateful  cause?  What  freemen  can  endure  it?  These  practices 
have  already  disclosed  their  destructive  fruits  in  preparing  a 


THE  STATE  FREE  SCHOOL  SYSTEM.  213 

whole  generation,  by  a  pupilage  of  lies,  for  a  war  of  plunder 
and  subjugation  against  the  South.  For  years  before  the  war  the 
sectional  and  aggressive  party  had  control  of  the  State  educa- 
tion in  Xew  England  and  the  Northwest.  They  used  their  op- 
portuniry  diligently;  and  the  result  was  that  when  the  chance 
to  strike  came,  they  had  a  whole  generation  trained  to  their 
}»urpose  in  hatred  of  the  South  and  in  constitutional  heresies. 
Such  was  the  testimony  of  Daniel  Webster.  Two  gentlemen 
from  Virginia — ^old  collegemates  of  mine — were  visiting  Wash- 
ington during  Mr.  Filmore's  administration.  Webster's  return 
towards  an  impartial  course  had  then  gained  him  some  respect 
in  the  South,  and  my  twio  friends  paid  their  respects  to  him. 
While  conversing  with  them  he  fixed  his  dark  eyes  on  them, 
and  with  great  earnestness  asked:  ''Can't  you  Southern  gen- 
tlemen consent,  upon  some  sort  of  inducement  or  plan,  to  sur- 
render slavery?"  They  replied  firmly:  "Not  to  the  interference 
or  dictation  of  the  Federal  Grovernment.  And  this  not  on  ac- 
(•(uint  of  mercenary  or  selfish  motives,  but  Ibecause  to  allow 
outside  interference  in  this  vital  matter  would  forfeit  the  lib- 
erties and  other  rights  of  the  South."  "Are  you  ifixed  in  that?" 
asked  Webster.  "Yes,  unalterably."  "Well,"  he  said,  with  an 
awful  solemnity,  "I  cannot  say  you  are  wrong,  but  if  you  are 
fixed  in  that,  go  home  and  get  ready  your  weapons:"  They 
asked  him  what  on  earth  he  meant.  He  replied,  that  the  par- 
sons and  common-school  teachers  and  school-marms  had  dili- 
gently educated  a  whole  Northern  generation  into  a  passionate 
hatred  of  slavery,  who  would,  as  certainly  as  destiny,  attack 
Southern  institutions.  So  that  if  Southern  men  were  determined 
not  to  surrender  their  institutions  they  had  better  prepare  for 
war.  Thus,  according  to  Mr.  Webster,  the  crimes,  woes,  and 
horrors  of  the  last  fifteen  years  aie  all  partly  due  to  this  school 
system.  The  only  condition  in  which  free  government  can  ex- 
ist is  amidst  the  wholesome  competition  of  two  great  constitu- 
rional  parties,  who  watch  and  restrain  each  other.  The  result 
of  this  system  of  State  schools  is  that  the  successful  party  ex- 
tinguishes its  rival,  and  thus  secures  for  Itself  an  unchecked 
career  of  usurpation.  For  it  aims  to  extinguish  all  the  diver- 
sity and  independence  which  the  young  would  derive  from  par- 
ental inculcation,  and  to  imprint  upon  the  whole  body  of  com- 
ing citizens  its  own  monotonous  type  of  political  heresies  and 


214  THE  STATE  FREE  SCHOOL  SYSTEM. 

passions.  This  is  viitually  doue  in  America.  For  tlie  Northern 
Democratic  party  is  only  a  little  less  radical  than  the  Radicals, 
and  really  separated  from  them  chiefly  by  the  craving  for  party 
sp3ils.  If  the  triumphant  faction,  wielding  this  power  of  uni- 
versal education,  happens  to  be  one  as  able,  patriotic,  and  hon- 
est as  the  party  of  Knox  and  Melville,  then  there  may  result  the 
marvelous  homogeneity  and  thrift  of  Presbyterian  Scotland. 
But  the  ascendant  faction  may  happen  to  be  a  ruthless  and  un- 
principled Radicalism,  armed  with  this  power  of  universal  cor- 
ruption 3f  future  opiuiou  and  morals  I  And  what  then?  All 
is  lost;  the  remaining  alternatives  are  Chinese  civilization,  or 
savagery.    Your  very  obedient  servant,  R.  L.  DABXEY. 


DR.  DABNEY'S  BATTERY.  ^ 


HE  OPENS  FIRE  ON  DR.  RUFFNER   FROM    ANOTHER 

QUARTER. 


His  Fourtli  Letter— The  Bible  in  the  Public  Schools— The  Diffi- 
culty not  Limited  to  America — Is  Religious  Training  Essen- 
tial?— The  Human  Spirit  a  Monad — The  Duty  of  Parents. 


IV. 


Hampden  Sidney,  Va.,  May  4,  i8t6. 
To  W.  H.  Ruffner,  Esq.,  Superintendent  of  State  Schools: 

Dear  Sir. — The  third  objection  to  education  by  the  State  is, 
if  possible,  more  conclusive  still.  It  is  one  which  looms  up  al- 
ready in  such  insuperable  dimensions  that  we  freely  acknowl- 
edge the  hope  that  the  whole  system  may  be  wrecked  by  it  at 
an  early  day.  This  is  the  difficulty,  especially  for  American 
Commonwealths,  of  the  religious  question.  What  religion  shall 
be  taught  to  the  children  by  the  State's  teachers  as  the  neces- 
sary part  of  the  education  of  reasonable  and  moral  beings?  We 
have  only  to  mention  the  well-known  facts  that  the  citizens 
of  these  Amencan  States  are  conscientiously  divided  among 
many  and  rival  sects  of  religion,  and  that  our  forms  of  goveni- 
ment  tolerate  no  union  of  Church  and  State,  and  guarantee 
equal  rights  to  all  men  irrespective  of  their  religious  opinions, 
to  show  to  any  fair  mind  how  impossible  it  is  for  the  advo- 
cates of  universal  State  education  to  do  more  than  evade  the 
point  of  the  difficulty.  It  has  been  made  familiar  to  every  read- 
er of  the  newspapers  in  America  iby  recent  events  in  this  coun- 
try— ^in  New  York,  in  Cincinnati,  and  elsewhere.  The  teaching 
of  King  James's  version  of  the  Christian  Scriptures  even  has  led 
to  violent  protest  and  even  to  actual  riot  and  combat.  The 
most  numerous  and  determined  complainants  are,  of  course, 
Roman  Catholics;  but  the  Jews,  now  becoming  increasingly  nu- 
merous and  influential,  and  the  Unitarians  and  Deists  must 

1 Appeared  in  Richmond  Enquirer.  '-15 


216  THE  statp:  frke  school  system. 

claim  similar  grounds  of  protest.  Their  argument  is  that  this 
version  of  the  Scriptures  is,  in  their  sincere  judgment,  erron- 
eous; and  therefore  thev  cannot  conscientiously  permit  it  to  bo 
taught  to  their  children.  But  as  they  are  taxed  to  support  these 
schools,  they  cannot  be  justly  perverted  to  teach  their  children 
an  obnoxious  creed  without  a  virtual  establishment  of  the 
Protestant  religion  at  public  expense;  which  is  an  outrage 
against  the  fundamental  principles  and  laws  of  the  State.  The 
special  advocates  of  the  common  schools,  who  are  usually  also 
zealous  Protestants,  try  hard  to  tlout  tliis  objection  as  captious. 
But  while  we  are  very  far  from  being  Komanists  in  religion, 
we  feel  that  this  difficulty  canuot  be  justly  disposed  of  in  this 
way.  If  the  State,  through  its  teachers,  taught  the  children  of 
us  Protestants  that  version  of  the  Bible  which  makes  the  Re- 
deemer say:  ''Except  ye  do  penance  ye  shall  all  likewise  per- 
ish." we  should  make  a  determined  resistance.  No  i)ower  on 
earth  would  force  us  to  acquiesce  in  such  inculcation  of  what 
we  devoutly  believe  to  be  religious  error.  And  we  should  feel 
that  it  was  an  inexcusable  injustice  to  tax  us  for  the  purpose  of 
teaching  to  our  beloved  children  what  we  could  not,  at  the  peril 
of  our  souls,  permit  them  to  learn.  Xow,  the  common-school 
advocates  of  New  York  and  of  Ohio  would  say,  our  objection 
is  just,  because  the  Latin  vulgate  is  really  an  erroneous  trans- 
lation; the  objection  of  the  Romanists  is  unjust  because  King 
James's  is  a  substantially  correct  version  of  Grod's  word.  As 
theologians,  and  in  an  ecclesiastical  arena,  we  assert  that  this  is 
true;  and  are  confident  that  we  can  establish  it.  But  this  is  not 
the  point.  We  have  covenanted  that  in  our  political  relations 
as  citizens  of  the  Commonwealth,  all  shall  have  equal  rights 
irrespective  of  their  religion.  In  tliat  sphere  we  are  bound  to 
be  impartial;  "our  word  is  out."  The  very  point  of  the  coven- 
ant is.  that  so  far  as  civic  rights  and  privileges  go,  our  Roman- 
ist fellow-citizens"  opinions  (erroneous  though  we  deem  them. 
In  our  religious  judgment)  shall  be  respected  precisely  as  they 
are  required  to  respect  ours.  The  weight  of  the  Romanist  pro- 
test, then,  cannot  be  consistently  evaded  by  American  repub- 
licans. 

This  difficulty  is  not  limited  to  our  democratic  land.  In 
Great  Britain  and  Ireland,  where  the  government  is  moving  for 
national  education,  all  the  denominations  of  Christians  are 
hopelessly  involved  in  it.     For  the  settlement  of  this  matter, 


THE  STATE  FREE   SCHOOL  SYSTEM.  217 

there  are,  if  the  State  educates,  but  three  possible  alternatives. 
One  is  to  force  the  relij^ion  of  the  majority  on  the  children  of 
the  minority  of  the  peojde.  The  injustice  of  this  has  already 
been  proved.  A  second  solntijn  is  what  the  British  call  the 
plan  of  "concurrent  endowment.''  It  consists  in  aidin<>-  the  citi- 
zens of  different  religious  to  gather  their  children  in  separate 
schools,  in  which  religious  instruction  may  be  g"iven  suited  to 
the  views  of  the  parents,  and  all  paid  far  'by  the  State  alike. 
The  clamors  of  the  Romanists  in  New  York  have  been  partially 
appeased  by  acts  falling  virtually  under  this  plan.  The  city 
government,  in  view  of  the  fact  tliat  Romanists  cannot  con- 
scientiously send  their  children  to  schools  which  they  are  taxed 
to  support,  make  appropriations  of  public  mone}^  to  some  of 
their  schools,  which  are  in  every  respect  managed  after  their 
own  religious  ideas.  This  ''concurrent  end'owment"  is  justly  as 
odious  to  the  great  Protestant  body,  both  in  this  country  and 
Great  Britain,  as  any  plan  could  be.  It  offers  its  seeming:  solu- 
tion only  in  places  populous  enough  in  the  several  rival  reli- 
gions to  furnish  materials  for  a  school  to  each.  In  all  other 
places  it  makes  no  provision  for  the  difficulty.  It  is  a  dereliction 
from  principle  in  a  State  i)revalently  Protestant  in  its  popula- 
tion thus  to  place  contradictory  systems  of  'belief  upon  a  com- 
plete legislative  equality,  teaching  both  alike,  when  the  truth 
of  the  one  inevitably  implies  the  falsehood  of  the  other.  It 
outrages  the  rights  of  Protestants  by  expending  a  part  of  the 
money  they  pay  in  propagating  opinions  which  they  regard  as 
false  and  destructive,  and  it  gives  to  erroneous  creeds  a  pecun- 
iary and  moral  support  beyond  that  which  t^hey  draw  from  the 
zeal  and  free  gifts  of  their  own  votaries.  For  these  reasons  the 
plan  of  "concurrent  endowment"  is  reprobated  by  all  the  strong- 
er denominations  on  both  sides  of  the  Atlantic.  The  Irish  and 
Amencan  Catholics  profess  to  approve  it,  because  they  expect 
to  gain  something  by  it,  but  most  inconsistently.  Who  dreams 
that  if  they  held  t'he  power,  and  were  in  the  majority  in  either 
the  British  or  Yankee  empire  (as  in  the  French),  they  would  be 
willing  to  see  "good  Catholic  money"  appropriated  by  the  State 
to  teach  ''Prote.stant  heresies?" 

The  third  alternative  proposed  is,  to  limit  the  teaching  of 
the  State  schools  in  every  case  to  secular  learning,  leaving  the 
parents  to  supply  such  religious  instruction  as  they  see  fit  in 


218  THE  STATE   FREE  SCHOOL  SYSTEM. 

their  own  way  and  time,  or  to  neglect  it  wholly.  Of  this  solu- 
tion no  Christian  of  any  name  can  'be  an  advocate.  We  have 
seen  how  utterly  the  Pope  and  his  prelates  reprobate  it.  All 
other  denominations  in  Europe  regard  it  as  monstrous;  and  in- 
deed no  adherent  of  any  religion  can  be  found  in  any  other  age 
or  country  than  America  who  would  not  pronaunce  it  wicked 
and  absurd  for  any  agency  undertaking  the  education  of  youth 
to  leave  their  religious  culture  an  absolute  blank.  Testimonies 
might  be  cited  to  weariness;  we  will  satisfy  ourselves  with  a 
few.  two  of  which  are  of  peculiar  relevancy,  because  drawn 
from  unwilling  witnes.ses,  earnest  advocates  of  tState  schools. 
In  an  annual  meeting  of  the  Teachers'  Association  of  the  State 
of  Maryland  a  well-considered  piece  was  read  by  a  prominent 
member,  in  which  the  immense  difficulty  of  the  religious  ques- 
tion in  State  schools  was  fairly  displayed.  The  author,  on  the 
one  hand,  admitted  that  the  rights  of  conscience  of  parents 
could  not  be  justly  disregarded.  He  held,  on  the  other,  that  a 
schooling  devoid  of  moral  and  religious  teachings  ought  to  be 
utterly  inadmissable.  The  best  solution  he  could  suggest  was, 
that  the  State  should  get  up  a  course  of  moral  and  theological 
dogmas  for  its  pupils,  embracing  only  those  common  truths  in 
which  all  parties  are  agreed,  and  excluding  every  truth  to  which 
any  one  party  took  exception.  And  he  admitted  that,  as  we 
have  Protestants.  Papists,  Unitarians,  Jews,  Deists,  etc.,  (not  to 
say  Mormons  and  the  heathen  Chinese),  the  Bible  and  all  its 
characteristic  doctrines  must  be  excluded!  It  is  too  plain  that 
when  the  State  school's  creed  had  been  pruned  of  every  proposi- 
tion to  which  any  one  party  objected,  it  would  be  worthless  and 
odious  in  the  eyes  of  every  party,  and  would  be  too  emasculated 
'^^o  do  any  child's  soul  a  particle  of  good. 

In  a  meeting  of  the  Educational  Association  of  Virginia 
four  years  ago  a  pious  and  admirable  paper  was  read  by  one 
of  the  most  eminent  citizens  in  the  State  (Dr.  J.  B.  Minor)  on 
this  theme:  ''Bible  instruction  in  schools."  After  some  exor- 
dium it  begins  thus:  "It  must  be  acknowledged  to  be  one  of 
the  most  remarkable  phenomena  of  our  perverted  humanity 
that  among  a  Christian  people,  and  in  a  Protestant  land,  such  a 
discussion  should  not  seem  as  absurd  as  to  inquire  whether 
school-rooms  should  be  located  under  water  or  in  darksome  cav- 
erns.     The  Jew,  the  Mohammedan,  the  follower  of  Confucius 


THE  STATE   FREE  SCHOOL  SYSTEM.  210 

and  of  Brahma,  each  and  all  are  careful  to  instruct  the  youth  of 
their  people  in  the  tenets  of  the  religions  they  profess,  and  are 
not  content  until,  by  direct  and  reiterated  teaching,  they  'have 
been  made  acquainted  with  at  least  the  outline  of  the  books 
which  contain,  as  they  believe,  the  revealed  will  of  Deity. 
Whence  comes  it  that  Christians  are  so  indiflferent  to  a  duty  so 
obvious,  and  so  universally  recaguized  by  Jew  and  Pagan?'' 
The  absolute  necessity  of  Bible  instruction  in  schools  is  then 
argued  with  irresistible  force.  Yet,  with  all  this,  such  is  the 
stress  of  the  difficulty  which  we  are  pressing,  it  betrays  this  able 
writer  into  saying:  "I  do  not  propose  to  allude  to  the  agitating 
question  of  the  introduction  of  the  Scriptures  into  public 
schools  conducted  under  authority  of  government."  But  why 
not?  If  other  schools  so  imperatively  need  this  element  of  Bi- 
ble instruction,  why  do  not  the  State  schools?  Its  necessity  is 
argued  from  principles  which  are  of  universal  application  to 
beings  who  have  souls.  Why  shall  not  the  application  be  made 
to  all  schools?  Alas!  the  answer  is:  the  right  conclusion  cannot 
be  applied  to  State  schools.  We  claim,  then,  this  is  a  complete 
demonstration  that  the  State  is  unfit  to  assume  the  educational 
function.  The  argument  is  as  i)lain  and  perfect  as  any  that  can 
be  imagined.  Here  is  one  part  which  is  absolutely  essential 
to  the  very  work  of  right  education :  the  State  is  effectively  dis- 
abled from  performing  that  part.  Then  the  State  cannot  edu- 
cate, and  should  not  profess  it.  The  argument  is  parallel  to 
this:  In  order  to  be  a  country  physician  it  is  essential  that  one 
shall  ride  in  all  weathers.  A.  cannot  ride  in  bad  weather.  Then 
A.  cannot  be  a  country  physician,  and  if  he  is  an  honest  man  he 
vsill  not  profess  to  be. 

Whether  the  religious  training  is  ■essential  to  all  right  edu- 
cation, let  us  hear  a  few  more  witnesses.  Said  Daniel  W^ebster, 
in  the  Girard  will-case,  commenting  on  the  exclusion  of  clergy- 
men from  the  proposed  orphan  college :  "In  what  age,  by  what 
sect,  where,  when,  by  whom,  has  religious  truth  been  excluded 
from  the  education  of  youth?  Nowhere;  never.  Everywhere, 
and  at  all  times,  it  has  been  and  is  regarded  as  essential.  //  is 
of  the  essence,  the  vitality  of  useful  instruction  "'  Says  Sir 
Henry  Bulwer:  ''I  do  not  place  much  confidence  in  the  phil- 
osopher who  pretends  that  the  knowledge  which  develops  the 
passions  is  an  instrument  for  their  suppression,  or  that  where 


!^20  THE  STATE  FREE  SCHOOL  SYSTEM. 

there  are  the  most  desires  there  is  lili:ely  to  be  the  most  ordei- 
and  the  most  abstinence  in  their  gratification."  The  historian 
Fronde  (a  witness  bv  no  means  friendly  to  orthodoxy),  quoting 
Miss  Nightingale,  a  philanthropist  as  Christian  as  wise,  em- 
phatically endorses  her  opinion,  that  the  ordinary  and  natural 
effect  of  the  communication  of  secular  knowledge  to  youths 
whose  destiny  is  labor  is  only  to  suggest  the  desire  for  illicit 
objects  of  enjoyment.  Says  Dr.  Francis  Wayland:  "Intellec- 
tual cultiyation  may  easily  exist  without  the  existence  of  yirtue 
or  love  of  right.  In  this  case  its  only  effect  is  to  stimulate  de- 
sire; and  this  unrestrained  by  the  love  of  right  must  eventually 
overturn  the  social  fabric  which  is  at  first  erected.''  Hear  John 
Locke:  "It  is  virtue,  then,  direct  virtue,  which  is  the  hard  and 
valuable  part  to  be  aimed  at  in  education.  *  *  *  jf  virtue 
and  a  well-tempered  soul  be  not  got  and  settled  so  as  to  keep 
out  ill  and  vicious  habits,  languages,  and  science,  and  all  the 
other  accomplishments  of  education,  will  be  to  no  purpose  ^u^ 
to  make  the  worse  or  more  dangerous  itian^'' 

We  propose  now  to  substantiate  these  ^iews  of  the  wise 
and  experienced,  by  arguing  that  tuition  in  Christianity  is  es- 
sential to  all  education  which  i.s  worth  the  name.  And  we  claim 
more  than  the  admission  that  each  man  should  at  some  stage 
of  his  training,  and  by  somebody,  be  taught  Christi;inity;  we 
mean  in  the  fullest  sense  that  Christianity  must  be  a  present 
element  of  all  the  training  at  all  times,  or  else  it  i-s  not  true  and 
valuable  education.  Some  one  may  say  that  this  broad  propo- 
sition is  refuted  at  the  outset  by  frequent  instances  of  persons 
who  received,  at  least  during  a  part  of  their  youth,  a  training 
perfectly  non-Christian,  and  who  yet  are  very  useful,  and  even 
Christian  citizens.  The  answer  is  easy:  It  is  the  prerogative  of 
a  merciful  Providence,  and  the  duty  of  His  children,  to  repair 
the  defects  and  misfortunes  of  His  creatures  and  to  bring  good 
out  of  evil.  But  surely  this  comes  far  short  of  a  justification  for 
us  if  we  willingly  employ  faulty  methods  which  have  a  regular 
tendency  to  work  evil.  Surely  it  is  not  our  pri\ilege  to  make 
mischief  for  God  and  good  Christians  to  repair! 

Let  the  candid  reader,  then,  ponder  the  weight  of  these 
facts.  The  human  spirit  is  a  monad,  a  single,  unit,  spiritual 
substance,  having  facilities  and  .susceptibilities  for  different 
modifications,  but  no  parts.    Hence,  when  it  is  educated  it  is 


THE  STATE   FREE  SCHOOL  SYSTEM.  221 

educated  as  a  uuii.  The  moral  judgmeuLs  aud  acts  of  the  soul 
all  involve  an  exercise  of  reason;  so  that  it  is  impossible  to  sep- 
arate the  ethical  and  intellectual  functions.  The  conscience  is 
the  supreme,  directive  faculty  of  the  soul;  so  that  knowledge 
•bears  to  moral  action  the  relation  of  means  to  end.  Man  fulfills 
the  ends  of  his  existence,  not  by  right  cognitions,  but  by  right 
m'oral  actions.  Hence  we  are  obviously  correct  in  holding  that 
the  fundamental  value  of  right  cognitions  is  simply  as  they  are 
the  means  of  right  moral  acts — that  is,  the  knowledge  is  really 
valuable  only  as  it  is  in  order  to  right  actions.  Again:  The  na- 
ture of  responsibility  is  such  that  there  can  be  no  neutrality,  or 
tertium  quid,  between  duty  and  sin.  "He  that  is  not  with  his 
God  is  against  him."  He  who  does  not  positively  comply  with 
the  ever-present  obligation  does  ipso  facto  violate  it,  and  con- 
tract positive  sinfulness.  Hence  as  there  cannot  be  in  any  soul 
a  non-Christian  state  which  is  not  anti- Christian,  it  follows  that 
any  training  which  attemj)ts  to  be  non-Christian  is  there- 
fore anti-Christian.  God  is  the  rightful,  supreme  mas- 
ter and  owner  of  all  reasonable  creatures,  and  their 
nearest  and  highest  duties  are  to  him.  Hence  to  train 
a  soul  away  from  him  is  a  robbery  of  God,  which  he  cannot 
justify  in  any  person  or  agency  whatsoever.  He  has  not,  in- 
deed, committed  to  the  8tate  the  duty  of  leading  souls  to  him 
as  its  appropriate  task.  This  is  committed  to  the  familj'  and  to 
his  church.  Yet  it  does  by  no  means  follow  that  the  State  may 
do  anything  tending  to  the  opposite.  The  soul  is  essentially  ac- 
tive, and  every  human  being  in  his  active  powers  of  moral  de- 
sire, volition  and  habit,  is  unavoidably  exercising  himself. 
Hence,  whatever  omission  or  neglect  maj'  be  practiced  as  to  the 
formation  of  a  character,  every  character  does  inevitably  form 
itself,  for  evil  if  not  for  good!  Eemember,  also,  that  evil  ex- 
ample is  omnipresent  in  the  world,  and  the  disposition  to  re- 
spond to  it  is  innate  in  every  child.  How  obvious,  then,  that  a 
"let-alone  policy"  as  to  the  moral  development  must,  to  a  great- 
er or  less  degree,  amount  to  a  positive  development  of  vicious 
character?  Not  to  row  is,  itself,  to  float  down  the  stream.  Once 
more:  the  discipline  of  one  set  of  faculties  may  leave  other 
faculties  inert  and  undeveloped.  This  result  is,  then,  more  than 
a  negative  mischief,  because  the  balance  or  proportion  of  the 
character  is  then  more  perverted.    Should    the    branches  and 


222         THE  STATE  FREE  SCHOOL  SYSTEM. 

leaves  of  a  tree  cuiitiinie  to  grow  while  the  rjots  remained  sta- 
tionary it  would  result  in  the  destruction  of  the  tree,  and  this 
although  the  roots  contracted  no  positive  disease  or  weakness. 
The  first  gale  would  blaw  it  over  in  consequence  of  the  dispro- 
portion 'of  its  parts.  In  this  view  the  conclusion  cited  above 
from  Sir  H.  Bulwer  and  Mr.  Froude  is  seen  to  be  perfectly  just. 
With  the  increase  of  knowledge  temptations  must  increase. 
Wider  circles  of  imagined  enjoyments  are  opened  to  the  de- 
sires, so  that  if  the  virtuous  habitude  is  not  correspondingly 
strengthened,  criminal  wishes  and  purposes  will  be  the  sure  re- 
sult. He  who  has  criminal  purposes  is,  moreover,  by  his  knowl- 
edge equipped  with  more  power  to  execute  them.  Locke's  con- 
clusion is  just.  In  the  words  of  Dr.  Griffin,  to  educate  the  mind 
without  purifying  the  heart  is  but  "to  place  a  sharp  sword  in 
the  hand  of  a  madman."  Our  last  proposition  of  these  premises 
is  that  practically  the  Bible  is  the  source  and  rule  of  moral  ob- 
ligation in  this  land.  By  this  we  do  not  mean  to  decide  that 
even  an  atheist,  not  to  say  a  disbeliever  in  inspiration,  might 
not  be  still  obliged  from  his  principles  to  recognize  the  impera- 
tive force  of  CDUscience  in  his  own  reason,  if  he  w'ould  philoso- 
phize correctly.  But  practically  few  do  recognize  and  obey  con- 
science except  those  who  recognize  the  authority  of  the  Bible. 
This  book  is,  in  point  of  fact,  the  source  from  which  the  Amer- 
ican people  draw  their  sense  of  obligation,  and  of  its  metes  and 
•bounds,  so  far  as  they  have  any.  This  is  especially  true  of  chil- 
dren. Grant  the  inspiration  of  the  Bible,  and  we  have  a  basis 
of  moral  appeal  sd  simple  and  strong  that  practically  all  other 
■bases  are  comparatively  worthless,  especially  for  the  young.  Its 
moral  histories  have  an  incompatible  adaptation  to  the  popular 
and  the  juvenile  mind.  The  Bible  alone  applies  to  the  heart  and 
conscience  with  any  distinct  certainty  the  great  forces  of  future 
rew^ards  and  punishments  and  the  powers  of  the  world  to  come. 
And,  above  all,  it  alone  provides  the  purifjing  influences  of  re- 
demption. 

There  can  be,  therefore,  no  true  education  without  moral 
culture,  and  no  true  moral  culture  without  Christianity.  The 
very  power  of  the  teacher  in  the  school-room  is  either  moral  or 
it  is  a  degrading,  brute  force.  But  he  can  show  the  child  no 
other  moral  basis  for  it  than  the  Bible.  Hence  ray  argument 
is  as  perfect  as  clear.    The  teacher  must  be  Christian.    But  the 


THE    STATE    FREE   SCHOOL   SYSTEM.  228 

American  Commouwealth  has  promised  to  have  no  religions 
character.  Then  it  cannot  be  teacher.  If  it  undertakes  to  be,  it 
must  be  consistent,  and  go  on  and  unite  Churcli  and  State.  Are 
you  ready  to  follow  your  opinions  to  this  consistent  end? 

Since  religious  education  is  so  essential  a  part,  It  is  obvious 
that  a  wise  Providence  must  have  allotted  the  right  and  duty  of 
giving  it  to  some  other  of  the  independent  spheres  between 
which  he  has  distributed  the  social  interests  of  man.  This  duty 
rests  with  the  parent.  Such  is  the  Protestant  doctrine — the 
Bible  doctrine.  Neither  State  nor  Church  are  to  usurp  it;  but 
iboth  are  to  enlighten,  encourage  and  assist  the  parent  in  his 
inalienable  task. 

A  feeble  attempt  has  been  made  to  escape  this  fatal  objec- 
tion by  saying:  Let  the  State  schools  teach  secular  knowledge, 
and  let  the  parents,  in  other  places  and  times,  supplement  this 
with  such  religious  knowledge  as  they  please  and  by  the  help 
of  such  Church  as  may  please  them.  The  fatal  answers  are: 
Ist.  The  secular  teacher  depends  for  the  very  authority  to 
teach  upon  the  Bible.  2d.  The  exclusion  of  the  Bible  would 
put  a  stigma  on  it  in  the  child's  mind  which  the  parent  cannot 
afterwards  remove.  3d.  How  can  one  teach  history,  ethics,  psiy- 
chology,  cosmogony,  without  implying  some  religious  opinions? 
4th,  and  chiefly:  The  parents  who  are  too  poor,  ignorant,  and 
delinquent  to  secure  their  children  secular  schooling  will,  by 
the  stronger  reason,  be  sure  to  neglect  their  religious  education. 
But  these  are  the  parents  whose  deficiencies  give  tlie  sole  pre- 
text for  the  State's  interference,  so  that  the  one-sided  training 
which  the  State  leaves  merely  secular  will  remain  so  in  all  these 
cases.  But  these  cases  give  to  the  State  common  school  its  sole 
raison  d'etre. 

I  conclude,  therefore,  that  in  a  country  like  America,  at 
least,  your  favorite  system  is  ina])plicable,  and  will  work  only 
mischief.  Our  old  Virginia  system,  besides  its  economy,  has 
these  great  logical  advantages:  that  it  leaves  to  parents,  with- 
out usurpation,  their  proper  function  as  creators  or  electors  of 
their  children's  schools,  and  that  it  thus  wholly  evades  the  re- 
ligious question,  which  is,  to  you,  insoluble.  Government  is  not 
the  creator  but  the  creature  of  human  society.  The  Govern- 
ment has  no  mission  from  God  t)  make  the  community;  on  the 
contrary,  the  community  should  make  the  Government.    What 


224  THE  STATE  FREE  SCHOOL  SYSTEM. 

the  community  shall  be  is  determiued  by  Providence,  where  it  is 
happily  determined  by  far  other  causes  than  the  meddling  of 
governments — ^by  historical  causes  in  the  distant  past — by  vitml 
ideas  propagated  by  great  individual  minds — especially  by  the 
Church  and  its  doctrines.  The  only  communities  which  have 
had  their  characters  manufactured  for  them  by  their  govern- 
ments have  had  a  villainously  bad  character — like 
the  Chinese  and  the  Yankees.  Noble  races  make  their  gov- 
ernments; ignoble  ones  are  made  by  them. 
I  remain  your  very  obedient  servant, 

R.  L.  DABNEY. 


SECULARIZED  EDUCATION.' 


Who  is  the  agent  entitled  to  control  ecliieation?  What  is 
right  education?  These  questions  are  interdependent.  Two 
answers  have  been  proposed  to  the  first  in  history:  The  State, 
the  Church.  In  Europe,  Liberalism  saj'S  the  State,  and  insists 
on  secularizing  education,  by  which  it  means  its  release  from 
the  control  of  popery.  Liberals  see  clearly  that,  under  that 
control,  there  will  ibe  no  true  freedom.  ]^ut,  as  they  also  in- 
sist on  secularizing  the  State,  their  idea  of  a  free  education  is 
of  one  devoid  of  religion,  sei)arating  the  mental  from  the  spir- 
itual culture.  Thus  they  conclude  that  education  must  be  God- 
less, in  order  to  be  free.  Rome  has  herself  to  blame  for  this 
error,  as  for  most  of  European  scepticism.  She  claims  that  she 
alone  is  Christian:  independent  minds  reply,  "Then  Christian- 
ity is  evil."  So  if  her  education  were  the  only  Christian,  free- 
men would  have  to  reject  Christian  education.  If  private  judg- 
ment is  sin;  if  the  hierarchy  is  the  Church;  if  the  teacher  is  a 
real  priest  and  essential  ''proxy"  between  men  and  salvation; 
if  his  teaching  is  infallible;  if  the  real  end  of  the  culture  is  to 
enslave  the  soul  to  a  priesthood  with  a  foreign  head;  if  that  head 
is  absolutely  superior  to  the  secular  sovereignty,  such  ecclesias- 
tical education  will  be  civil  slavery.  It  is  not  strange  that  nu'U 
seeking  civil  liberty  spurn  it. 

The  mistake  is  in  confounding  ecclesiastical  with  Christian 
education.  Let  the  Scripture  be  heard:  "The  kingdom  of  God 
is  within  you,"  consisting,  not  in  a  greedy  hierarchy,  but  in 
the  rule  of  Truth;  the  clergy  are  not  lords  over  God's  heritage, 
but  only  "ministers  iby  whom  we  believe";  it  has  no  penalties 
but  the  spiritual,  reaching  no  man's  civil  rights;  its  only  other 
function  is  didactic,  and  its  teaching  only  binds  so  far  as  the 
layman's  own  conscience  responds;  it  is  the  Church's  duty  to 
instruct  parents  how  God  would  have  them  rear  their  children, 
— '  005 

1 A-p-pearedinLibbifs  Princeton  Renew. 


226  SECULARIZED    EDUCATION. 

aud  enforce  the  duty  bj-  spiritual  sanctions;  but  there  its  of- 
ficial power  ends.  It  does  not  usurp  the  doing  of  the  important 
task  it  inculcates.  As  a  Christian  private  man  the  minister 
lends  other  parents  his  knowledge  and  virtues  to  co-operate  in 
their  work.  But  all  this  implies  no  danger  either  to  spiritual  or 
religious  liberty. 

But  it  will  be  well  for  the  modern  Liiberal  to  pause  and  ask 
whether  he  secures  anything  by  this  transfer  of  the  educating 
function  from  Church  to  State?  Does  he  point  to  the  results 
of  Jesuit  teaching,  spurious,  shallow  scholarship,  an  enslaved 
and  morbid  conscience,  which  dares  not  even  wish  to  break  its 
fetters,  the  insatiable  greed  of  the  hierarchj-  for  influence  aud 
money,  the  hateful  perversion  of  the  sacred  task  to  inspire  false- 
hood and  prejudice  for  this  end?  The  picture  is  sufficientl}' 
repulsive.  But  are  only  ecclesiastics  grasping?  Is  liuman  na- 
ture depraved?  Is  it  essentially  the  same  in  all  men?  Then 
w^hy  are  they  not  to  be  expected  to  act  in  similar  ways,  when 
subjected  to  the  same  temptations?  And  the  modern  Liberal 
is  the  last  man  to  overlook  this  truth;  since  he  is  sceptical  of  all 
professions  of  spiritual  principles  in  clergymen,  and  prone  to 
ascribe  secular  motives.  He  should,  then,  expect  the  dema- 
gogue to  show  a  misguided  ambition  exactly  like  the  priests. 
What  is  the  hierarch  but  a  ghostly  demagogue?  The  dema- 
gogue is  but  the  hierarch  of  Mammon's  altar.  Does  he  not,  for 
instance,  pervert  that  other  educating  agency,  the  press,  just  as 
violently  as  the  Jesuit  the  school?  Now,  let  him  become  ruler 
in  the  State  and  the  State  become  educator;  and  there  is  just 
the  same  risk  that  the  education  of  youth  will  be  perverted  to 
subserve  a  faction,  and  that,  by  the  hateful  means  of  imbuing 
their  minds  with  error  and  passion  in  place  of  truth  and  right. 
The  result  is  despotism  of  a  party  instead  of  a  pope.  One  may 
be  as  bad  as  the  other. 

But  if  the  State  is  the  educator,  in  America,  at  least,  educa- 
tion must  ibe  secularized  totally.  In  theory  our  State  is  the  in- 
stitute  for  realizing  secular  justice.  It  has  absolutely  severed 
itself  from  all  religions  equally;  has  pledged  itself  that  no  man's 
ciA'il  rights  shall  be  modified  or  equality  diminished  by  any  re- 
ligion or  the  lack  of  any;  and  has  forbidden  the  establishment 
of  any  religion  by  law,  and  the  imposition  of  any  burden  for  a 
religious  pretext  on  any.    But  the  State  school  teacher  is  her 


SECtTLARlZED   EDUCATION.  227 

official,  and  teaches  bj  her  authority.  All  school-offiL-ials  ileiivo 
their  authority  from  State  laws,  hence  all  their  functions  are  as 
truly  State  actions  as  those  Df  the  sheriff  in  hanging,  or  the 
judge  in  sentencing  a  murderer.  Especially  is  the  school  fund, 
raised  l)y  taxation,  the  common  and  equal  property  of  the  peo- 
ple. 

But  as  our  people  are  divided  among  many  religions,  that 
money  ought  no  more  to  be  used  in  schools  to  teach  one  religion 
in  preference  to  the  others,  than  in  a  church  establishment.  Once 
the  people  of  a  small  State,  like  Connecticut,  were  so  homoge- 
neous, that  any  dissentient  minority  was  minute,  and  the  dom- 
inant religion  was  taught  "on  State  account.''  without  any 
protest  loud  enough  to  be  inconvenient.  But  the  mixture  of 
our  people,  and  especially  the  strength  and  audacitj'  of  popery, 
now  makes  all  this  ditTerent.  Papists  make  an  effective  issue, 
arguing  that  the  State  must  not  use  the  people's  money  to  teach 
King  James's  version,  which  they,  a  part  of  the  people,  believe 
heretical.  Zealous  I'r^testants,  usually  zealous  State  school 
men,  try  to  tiout  this  plea.  But  wauld  they  assent  to  the  State's 
teaching  their  children,  with  their  money,  the  version  which 
says:  ''Except  ye  do  penance  ye  shall  all  likewise  perish?" 
They  exclaim :  "That  is  an  erroneous  version,  while  King 
James's  is  faithful."  Theologically  that  is  doubtless  true.  But 
the  very  point  of  the  State's  covenant  with  the  people  is,  that 
the  State  shall  not  judge,  either  way,  of  that  proposition.  It  has 
been  bargained  that,  in  the  State  arena,  we  shall  respect  papists' 
religious  views,  preciseh'  as  we  require  them  to  respect  ours. 
Suppose  them,  some  day,  in  as  large  a  majority  in  some  State 
as  PrDtestants  are  in  New  England,  would  we  acquiesce  in  their 
forcing  the  study  of  the  Douay  version  in  State  schools'.'  So, 
unless  we  admit  that  our  might  makes  our  right,  we  ought  not 
to  inflict  the  parallel  wrongs  on  the  Jews,  Mohammedans,  Athe- 
ists, and  Buddhists  among  us,  because  they  are  still  few. 

It  is  sought  to  parr}'  this  conclusion  thus:  While  all  re- 
ligions are  equal,  and  no  one  established,  the  State  is  not  an 
atheistic  institute,  but  must  ground  itself  in  the  will  of  God, 
which  is  the  standard  of  all  rights.  That  the  State  is  an  ethical 
institute  and  for  ethical  ends.  That  hence  it  enjoins  the  Saib- 
bath,  punishes  blasphemy,  etc.  Tliat  e<iually  the  State,  while 
not  establishing  one  religion  to  the  prejudice  of  others,  ought 


228  SECDLARIZED   EDUCATION. 

to  teach  the  divine  truths  common  to  all,  by  the  iinsectariau 
use  of  the  Bible.  But,  whether  this  be  the  just  basis  of  a  com- 
monwealth or  not,  our  States  do  not  avow  it.  And  second,  the 
question  is  not  of  the  original  Scripture  in  common  schools,  but 
of  some  one  version,  among  other  competing  ones,  which  even 
Protestants  do  not  claim  to  be  infallible.  Hence  the  question, 
Which  version?  raises  sectarian  issues.  Third,  we  do  not  be- 
lieve, any  more  than  these  reasoners,  that  the  State  can  be  athe- 
istic, because  it  is  an  ethical  institute,  and  the  divine  will  is  the 
only  valid  ethical  rule.  But  the  State  finds  the  theistic  basis 
in  natural  theology.  The  proof  is,  that  pagan  States,  resting 
only  on  natural  theism,  were  valid,  and  rightfully  (Rom.  13:  5) 
possessed  the  allegiance  even  of  Christians.  The  evasion  there- 
fore is  futile. 

But  be  the  logic  of  this  question  what  it  may,  the  actual 
result  is  certain.  The  papists  will  inevitably  carry  the  point, 
as  they  have  already  done  in  many  places.  That  they  will 
triumph  everywhere  else  that  they  care  to  try,  is  plain  from  the 
growing  timidity  of  the  Bible  advocates,  the  poverty  of  the  com- 
promises they  offer,  and  the  spreading  indifference  of  the  masses 
to  the  value  of  biblical  teaching.  In  fact,  on  American  prem- 
ises, the  Bible  advocates  have  no  plea  'but  a  pious  predilection, 
and  sooner  or  later  logical  considerations,  Avhen  so  clear,  must 
assert  their  force.  The  difficulty  of  the  problem  appears  thus: 
That  it  agitates  other  free  governments  than  ours,  as  the  Brit- 
ish and  Holland,  at  this  day. 

For  the  solution  there  are,  on  the  theory  of  State  education, 
four  suggestions.  The  first  is  the  unjust  one  of  forcing  the  relig- 
ion of  the  majority  on  the  minority.  The  second  is  what  is 
called  in  Great  Britain  the  plan  of  "concurrent  endowments." 
Each  denomination  may  have  its  own  schools  endowed  by  the 
State,  and  teach  its  own  religion  in  it  along  with  secular  learn- 
ing. This  is  virtually  the  plan  by  which  New  York  papists  have 
been  partially  appeased.  It  is  justly  rejected  by  Protestants 
everywhere.  First,  because  it  offers  no  solution  save  where 
the  several  denominations  are  populous  enough  to  sustain  a 
school  for  each  in  the  same  vicinage.  Second,  because  the 
State  has  no  right  thus  virtually  to  assert  the  co-ordinate  and 
equal  value  of  opposing  creeds,  the  truth  of  one  of  which  may 
imply  the  positive  falsehood  of  another.     Third,  because  the 


SECULARIZED  EDUCATION.  229 

State  has  no  right  to  indicate  of  cither  of  the  creeds  that  it  is, 
■or  is  not.  true  and  valuable.  Fourth,  because  Protestantism  is 
more  promotive  of  thrift  and  wealth  than  the  erroneous  creeds; 
whence  a  given  number  of  Protestants  will  pay  more  school-tax 
than  the  same  number  of  errorists,  so  that  this  plan  uses  a  part 
of  their  money  to  foster  creeds  they  conscientiously  believe 
mischievous.  Fifth,  it  gives  to  error  a  pecuniary  and  moral 
sui)pDrt  beyond  what  it  w^ould  receive  from  the  spontaneous 
zeal  of  its  votaries.  And  last,  it  disunites  the  population  by 
training  youth  in  hostile  religious  camps.  Irish  and  American 
papists  have  professed  to  approve  ^because  they  gain  by  the  plan. 
But  who  dreams  that  if  they  were  in  the  majority  they  would 
be  willing  to  see  "good  Catholic  money''  expended  in  teaching 
Protestant  heresy? 

The  third  plan  proposes  to  give  "unsectarian"  religious  in- 
struction in  tlie  tirst  hour  of  the  day,  while  parents  who  dissent 
from  it  are  allowed  to  detain  their  children  from  school  until 
that  hour  is  passed.  This  amounts  to  the  State's  establishing 
a  religion  and  using  the  people's  money  to  teach  it,  but  "per- 
mitiing  dissent  without  any  other  penalty  than  the  taxation  for 
a  religious  object  which  the  taxpayer  condemns.  That  is  to 
sny,  it  places  the  matter  where  England  places  her  established 
religion,  since  the  "Toleration  Act"  of  William  and  Mary  re- 
lieve 1  dissenters  of  penal  pains  for  absence  from  the  Anglican 
churches.  But  the  thing  Americans  claim  \%liberty  and  not  tol- 
eration. They  deny  the  State's  right  to  select  a  religion,  as 
the  true  and  useful  one,  for  anybody,  willing  or  unwilling. 
Those  who  dissent  from  the  selected  religion  deny  that  the 
State  may  thus  expend  the  people's  money  as  a  bait  to  careless 
or  erroneous  parents  to  submit  their  children  to  the  inculcation 
of  error. 

The  only  other  alternative  is  to  secularize  the  State's  teach- 
ing absolutely,  limiting  it  to  matters  merely  secular,  and  leav- 
ing parents  or  the  Church  to  supplement  it  with  such  religious 
teaching  as  they  may  please,  or  none.  Some  Christians,  driven 
by  the  ditticulty  which  has  been  disclo.sed,  adopt  this  conclu- 
sion. The  largest  number,  notwithstanding  the  difficulty,  reject 
it  with  energy.  Let  us  see  whether  this  plan  is  either  possible 
or  admissible. 

This  is  really  the  vital  (luestion.     It  cannot  be  discussed 


230  SECULAEIZED   EDUCATION. 

until  we  agree  what  education  is,  and  disperse  deceptive  mis- 
conceptions of  it.  It  is  properly  the  whole  man  or  person  that 
is  educated;  but  the  main  subject  of  the  work  is  the  spirit. 
Education  is  the  nurture  and  development  of  the  whole  man  for 
his  proper  end.  The  end  must  be  conceived  aright  in  order  to 
understand  the  process.  Even  man's  earthly  end  is  predomin- 
antly moral.  Xow,  if  dexterity  in  any  art,  as  in  the  handling 
of  printer's  type,  a  musket,  a  burin,  a  power-loom,  w^ere  educa- 
tion, its  secularization  might  be  both  possible  and  proper.  Is 
not  a  confusion  here  the  source  of  most  of  the  argument  in  de- 
fense of  that  theory?  For  instance,  "Why  may  not  the  State 
teach  reading  and  writing  Vvithout  any  religious  adjuncts,  as 
legitimately  as  the  mechanic  thus  teaches  his  apprentices  filing, 
planing,  or  hammering?""  Because  dexterity  in  an  art  is  not 
education.  The  latter  nurtures  a  soul,  the  other  only  drills  a 
sense-organ  or  muscle;  the  one  has  a  mechanical  end,  the  other 
a  moral.  And  this  answer  cannot  be  met  by  saying,  ''Let  it 
then  be  agreed  that  the  State  is  only  teaching  an  art,  a  dexter- 
ity— that,  for  instance,  of  letters."  For  the  State  refuses  to  be 
understood  thus:  it  claims  to  educate-,  as  is  witnessed  by  the  uni- 
versal argument  of  the  advocates  of  this  State  function,  that 
she  has  the  right  and  duty  of  providing  that  the  young  citizens 
shall  be  competent  to  their  responsibility  as  citizens.  But  these 
are  ethical.  Again,  if  the  State  professed  to  bestow,  not  an 
education,  but  a  dexterity,  equity  would  require  her  bestowing 
not  only  the  arts  of  letters,  but  all  other  useful  arts.  For  oniy 
the  minority  can  ever  live  by  literary  arts;  the  great  majority 
of  children  have  equal  rights  to  be  taught  the  other  bread-win- 
ning arts.  Thus  government  would  become  the  wildest  com- 
munism. Xo,  the  State  cannot  ado])t  this  evasion;  unless  she 
says  that  she   educates,   she  can  say  nothing. 

It  should  also  be  remarked  here  that  the  arts  of  reading  and 
writing  are  rather  means  of  education  than  education  itself,  and 
not  the  only  nor  the  most  effective  means.  As  Macaula.y 
showed,  against  Dr.  S.  Johnson,  the  unlettered  part  of  the 
Athenians  were,  in  some  respects,  highly  educated,  while  we  see 
many  minds,  with  these  arts,  really  undeveloped. 

But  is  a  really  secularized  education  either  possible  or  ad- 
missible? 

First,  Xo  people  of  any  age,  religion,  or  civilization,  before 


SECULARIZED    EDUCATION.  231 

ours,  has  ever  thought  so.  Against  the  present  attempt,  right 
or  wrong,  stands  the  whole  common  sense  of  mankdind.  Tagan, 
Papist,  Mohammedan,  Greek,  Protestant,  have  all  hitherto  re- 
jected any  other  education  than  one  grounded  in  religion,  as  a^b- 
surd  and  wicked.  Let  Mr.  Webster  be  heard  against  the  Gi- 
rard  will,  which  enjoined,  in  order  to  exclude  Christianity  from 
his  college,  that  no  minister  should  ever  enter  its  walls.  The 
argument  against  the  will  here  was,  that  the  trust  it  proposed 
to  create  was,  in  this,  so  opposed  to  all  civilized  jurisprudence, 
as  to  make  it  outside  the  law,  and  so  void,  ^o  formida^ble  did 
the  point  seem  to  lawyers,  that  Mr.  Horace  Binney,  of  the  de- 
fense, went  to  England  to  ransack  the  British  laws  of  trusts. 
It  was  in  urging  this  point  that  Mr.  WeSbster  uttered  the  mem- 
orable words: 

*'In  what  age,  by  what  sect,  where,  when,  by  whom,  has 
religious  truth  been  excluded  from  the  education  of  youth? 
Nowhere.  Never!  Everywhere,  and  at  all  times,  it  has  been 
regarded  as  essential.  It  is  of  ihe  essence,  the  vitality  of  useful 
instruction.''^  And  this  was  not  the  assertion  of  Mr.  Webster, 
the  politician,  but  of  the  learned  lawyer,  face  to  face  with  able 
opponents,  and  making  one  of  the  most  responsible  forensic 
efforts  of  his  life.  He  knew  that  he  was  uttering  the  weighty 
voice  of  history  and  jurisprudence. 

Let  another  witness  be  heard,  of  equal  learning  and  suiper- 
iur  character.*  "It  must  be  acknowledged  to  be  one  of  the 
most  remarkable  phenomena  of  our  perverted  humanity,  that 
among  a  Christian  people,  and  in  a  Protestant  land,  such  a  dis- 
cussion"' (whether  the  education  of  youth  may  not  be  secular- 
ized) "should  not  seem  as  absurd  as  to  inquire  whether  school- 
rooms should  be  located  under  water  or  in  darksome  caverns! 
The  Jew,  the  Mohammedan,  the  follower  of  Confucius,  and  of 
P.rahma,  each  and  all  are  careful  to  instruct  the  youth  of  their 
people  in  the  tenets  of  the  religions  they  profess,  and  are  not 
content  until,  by  direct  and  reiterated  teaching,  they  have  been 
made  ac(iuainted  with  at  least  the  outline  of  the  books  which 
contain,  as  they  believe,  tlie  revealed  will  of  Deity.  Whence 
comes  it  that  Christians  are  so  indifferent  to  a  duty  so  obvious, 
and  so  obviously  recognized  by  Jew  and  Pagan?'' 

We  are  attempting  then  an  absolute  novelty.    But  may  not 

*John  B.  Minor.  LL.  D..  University  of  Virginia. 


232  SECULARIZED  EDUCATION. 

the  tree  be  already  known  by  its  fruits?  State  educatian  among 
Americans  tends  to  be  entirely  secularized.  What  is  the  result? 
Whence  this  general  revolt  from  the  Christian  faith  in  this 
country,  so  full  of  churches,  preachers,  and  a  redundant  Chris- 
tian literature,  so  boastful  of  its  Sabbaths  and  its  evangelism? 
AVhat  has  prepared  so  many  for  the  dreary  absurdities  of  mate- 
rialism? Why  do  the  journals  which  seek  a  national  circulatian 
think  it  their  interest  to  aflfect  irreligion?  Why  so  many  lamen- 
tations over  public  and  popular  corruptions?  He  who  notes 
the  current  of  opinion  sees  that  the  wisest  are  full  of  misgivings 
as  to  the  fruits  of  present  methods.  As  a.  specimen,  let  these 
words,  from  the  Governor  of  Massachusetts,  at  a  recent  anni- 
versary, be  taken:  "'He'-  (Gov.  Bice)  "lifted  up  a  warning 
voice,  with  respect  to  the  inadequacy  and  perils  of  our  nodern 
system  of  one-sided  education,  which  supposed  it  could  develop 
manhood  and  good  citizenship  out  of  mere  brain  culture.'' 

SecDud,  True  education  is,  in  a  sense,  a  spiritual  process, 
the  nurture  of  a  soul.  By  spiritual,  the  divines  mean  the  acts 
and  states  produced  by  the  Holy  Ghost,  as  distinguished  from 
the  merely  ethical.  The  nurture  of  these  is  not  human  educa- 
tion, but  sanctiflcation.  Yet  education  is  the  nurture  of  a  spirit 
which  is  rational  and  moral,  in  which  conscience  is  the  regula- 
tive and  imperative  faculty;  whose  prDper  end,  even  in  this 
world,  is  moral.  ]>ut  God  is  the  only  Lord  of  the  conscience; 
this  soul  is  his  miniature  likeness;  his  will  is  the  source  of  obli- 
gation to  it;  likeness  to  him  is  its  perfection,  and  religion  is  the 
science  of  the  soul's  relations  to  God.  Let  these  statements  be 
placed  together,  and  the  theological  and  educational  processes 
appear  so  cognate  that  they  cannot  be  separated.  Hence  it  is 
that  the  common  sense  of  mankind  has  ever  invoked  the  guid- 
ance of  the  minister  of  religion  for  the  education  of  youth;  in 
India  the  Brahmin,  in  Turkey  the  Imam,  in  Jewry  the  Raibbi, 
and  in  Christian  lands  the  pastor.  So.  everywhere,  the  sacred 
books  have  always  been  the  prime  text-books.  The  only  excep- 
tion in  the  world  is  that  which  Rome  has  made  for  herself  by 
her  intolerable  abuse  of  her  powers.  Does  the  secularist  an- 
swer that  this  sacerdotal  education  results  in  a  Boeotian  char- 
acter and  puerile  culture?  Yes,  where  the  sacred  books  are 
false  Scriptures,  but  not  w^here  it  is  the  Bible  which  is  the  text- 
book.   So  that  these  instances  prove  that  the  common  sense  of 


SECULARIZED    EDUCATION".  233 

mankind  has  been  at  bottom  correct,  and  lias  only  beoii  abused, 
in  some  instances,  ibv  imposture. 

The  soul  is  a  spiritual  monad,  an  indivisible,  spiritual  unit, 
without  parts,  as  without  extension.  Those  powers,  which  we 
name  as  separate  faculties,  are  only  modes  of  function  with 
which  this  unit  is  qualified,  ditt'erentiated  by  the  distincti dus  of 
the  objects  on  which  they  operate.  The  central  power  is  still 
one.  From  these  truths  it  would  appear  that  it  cannot  be  suc- 
cessfully cultivated  by  patches.  We  cannot  have  tiie  intellectual 
workman  polish  it  at  one  place,  and  the  spiritual  at  another.  A 
succession  of  objects  may  be  presented  ta  the  soul,  to  evoke 
and  discipline  its  several  powers;  yet  the  unity  of  the  beinji^ 
would  seem  to  necessitate  a  unity  in  its  successful  culture. 

It  is  the  Christian  ideas  which  are  most  stimulating?  and  en- 
i\obling  to  the  soul.  He  who  must  needs  omit  them  from  his 
teaching  is  robbed  of  the  right  arm  of  his  strength.  Where 
sliall  he  get  such  a  definition  of  virtue  as  is  presented  in  the 
repealed  character  of  God?  Where  so  ennobling  a  ])icture  of 
benevolence  as  that  presented  in  Christ's  sacrifice  for  his  ene- 
mies? Can  the  conception  of  the  inter-stellar  spaces  so  ex- 
l)and  the  mind  as  the  thought  of  an  infinite  (Jod,  an  eternal 
existence,  and  an  everlasting  destiny? 

Every  line  of  true  knowledge  must  find  its  completeness  in 
its  convergency  to  God,  even  as  every  ibeam  of  daylight  leads 
the  eye  to  the  sun.  If  religion  be  excluded  from  our  study,  ev- 
ery process  of  thought  will  be  arrested  before  it  reaches  its 
])roper  g jal.  The  structure  of  thought  must  remain  a  truncated 
cone,  with  its  proper  apex  lacking.  Richard  liaxter  has  ner- 
vously expressed  this  truth."" 

Third,  If  secular  education  is  to  be  made  consistently  and 
honestly  non-Christian,  then  all  its  more  important  branches 
must  be  omitted,  or  they  must  submit  to  a  mutilation  and  falsi- 
fication, far  worse  than  absolute  omission.  It  is  hard  to  con- 
ceive how  a  teacher  is  to  keep  his  covenant  faithfully  with  the 
State  so  to  teach  history,  cosmogony,  psychology,  ethics,  the 
laws  of  nations,  as  to  insinuate  nothing  favorable  or  unfavor- 
able touching  the  prefei-red  beliefs  of  either  the  evangelical 
Christians,  Papists,  Socinians,  Deists,  Pantheists,  Materialists, 
or  Fetisch  worshippers,  who  claim  equal  rights  under  American 

*-Reformed  Pastor  "    pp.  91,  96. 


234  SECULARIZED   EDUCATION. 

institutions.  His  paedagogics  must  indeed  be  ''the  pla.v  of 
Hamlet,  with  the  part  of  Hamlet  omitted."  Shall  the  secular 
education  leave  the  young  citizen  totally  Ignorant  of  his  own 
ancestry?  But  how  shall  he  learn  the  story  of  those  struggles, 
through  which  Englishmen  achieved  tliose  liberties  which  the 
colonies  inherited,  without  understanding  the  fiery  persecutions 
of  the  Protestants  under  "Bloody  Mary,"  over  which  the 
Pope's  own  Legate,  Cardinal  Pole,  was  sent  to  preside? 
How  shall  the  sons  of  Huguenot  sires  in  New  York,  Virginia, 
or  Carolina  know  for  what  their  fathers  forsook  beautiful 
France,  to  hide  themselves  in  the  Northern  snows  or  the  mala- 
rious w^oods  of  the  South,  and  read  nothing  of  the  violation  of 
the  ''Edict  of  Nantes,"  the  "Dragonnades,"  and  the  wholesale 
assassination  of  St.  Bartholomew's  day,  in  honor  of  which  an 
"infallible"  predecessor  of  the  Pope  nangTe  Deums  and  struck 
medals?  Or,  if  the  physicist  attempt  to  ascend  farther  in  man's 
history,  can  he  give  the  genesis  of  earth  and  man,  without  in- 
timating whether  Moses  or  Huxley  is  his  prophet?  Or  can  the 
science  of  moral  obligation  be  established  in  impartial  oversight 
of  (rod's  relation  to  it.  and  of  the  (piestion  whether  or  not  his 
will  defines  and  grounds  all  human  duty?  Or  can  a  Grotius  or 
a  Vattel  settle  the  rights  of  nature  and  nations  without  either 
affirming  along  with  the  Apostles  that  "God  hath  made  of  one 
blood  all  nations  of  men  for  to  dwell  on  all  the  face  of  the 
earth,  and  hath  determined  the  times  before  appointed  and  the 
bounds  of  their  habitation,"  or  else  denying  it  with  the  infidel 
ethnologist?  How  much  of  the  noblest  literature  must  be  os- 
tracized, if  this  plan  is  to  be  honestly  carried  out?  The  State 
teacher  must  not  mention  to  his  pupil  Shakespeare,  nor  Bacon, 
nor  Milton,  nor  Macaulay.  The  Index  Expurgatorius  of  free 
democracy  will  be  far  more  stringent  than  that  of  despotic 
Rome!  But  it  is  not  necessary  to  multiply  these  instances. 
They  show  that  Christian  truths  and  facts  are  so  woven  into  the 
very  warp  and  woof  of  the  knowledge  of  Americans,  and  con- 
stitute so  beneficial  and  essential  a  part  of  our  civilization,  that 
the  secular  teacher,  who  impartially  avoids  either  the  affirma- 
tion or  denial  of  them,  must  reduce  his  teaching  to  tlie  bare  giv- 
ing of  those  scanty  rudiments,  which  are,  as  we  have  seen,  not 
knowledge,  but  the  mere  signs  of  knowledge. 

Does  some  one  say  that  practically  this  showing  is  exagger- 


SECULARIZED    EDUCATlOlSr.  235 

ated,  for  he  is  teacliiug-  some  purely  secular  course,  without  any 
such  niainiing  of  his  suibjects  or  prejudicing  of  Christianity?  If 
his  teaching  is  more  than  a  temporary  dealing  with  some  cor- 
ner of  education,  the  fact  will  be  found  to  be  that  it  is  tacitly 
anti-Christian;  overt  assaults  are  not  made;  but  there  is  a 
studied  avoidance  which  is  in  effect  hostile.  Tiiere  can  be  no 
neutral  position  between  two  extremes,  where  there  is  no  middle 
ground,  but  "a  great  gulf  fixed." 

Fourth,  Of  all  rightful  human  action  the  will  is  the  execu- 
tive and  the  conscience  the  directive  faculty.  Unless  these  be 
purified  and  enlightened,  to  enhance  the  A'igor  of  the,  soul's 
other  actions  by  training  is  -'but  superfiuous  mischief.  If  in  a 
ship  the  compass  be  lost  and  the  pilot  blind,  it  is  better  that 
there  should  not  be  a  great  force  to  move  her  machinery.  The 
more  energetic  its  motion,  the  greater  is  the  likelihood  the  ship 
will  speedily  be  upon  the  breakers.  Surely  this  is  sufficient  to 
show  {j  the  reflecting  mind  that  right  moral  inculcation  can- 
not be  separated  at  any  jM)int  or  for  any  time  from  the  intel- 
lectual, without  mischief. 

One  very  obvious  and  yet  not  the  weighiest  application  of 
this  truth  is  to  the  discipline  of  the  school  itself.  No  training 
of  any  faculty  takes  place  without  some  government.  On  what 
moral  basis  shall  the  teacher  who  wholly  suppresses  all  appeal 
to  religion  rest  that  authority  which  he  must  exercise  in  the 
school-room?  He  will  find  it  necessary  to  say  to  the  pupil, 
"Be  diligent.  Be  obedient.  Lie  not.  Defraud  not,"  in  order 
that  he  may  learn  his  secular  knowledge.  But  on  whose  au- 
thority? There  is  but  one  ground  of  moral  obligation,  the  will 
of  God,  and  among  the  people  of  this  country  he  wlio  does  not 
find  the  disclosure  of  that  will  in  tlie  Scriptures,  most  often 
finds  it  nowhere.  But  this  teaclier  must  not  inculcate  this 
Bible,  Then  his  mere  might  must  make  his  right,  or  else  the 
might  of  the  iparent,  or  of  the  magistrate,  to  whose  delegated 
authority  he  points  back.  Or  his  apjteal  may  he  to  mere  self- 
interest! 

Will  this  government  be  wholesome  for  a  youth's  sjul? 

But  from  a  pupil  the  youth  becomes  a  citizen.  He  passes 
under  wider  and  more  complex  obligations.  The  end  of  the 
State  schooling  is  to  fit  him  for  this.  The  same  question  re- 
curs, with  transcendent  moment,  On  what  Ibasis  of  right  shall 


'236  SECULAEIZED   EDUCATION. 

these  duties  rest?  As  a  man,  it  is  presumable  he  will  act  as  lie 
was  taught  while  a  boy.  Of  course  then  the  grounds  of  obliga- 
tion employed  with  him  in  school  should  be  the  ones  he  is  to 
recognize  in  adult  life.  In  the  State  school  a  non-Christian 
standard  alone  could  be  given  him.  He  cannot  be  expected 
now  to  rise  to  any  better;  he  may  sink  to  a  lower,  seeing  the 
ground  then  given  him  had  no  foundation  under  it. 

That  is  to  say,  young  Americans  are  to  assume  their  respon- 
sibilities with  pagan  morals,  for  these  are  just  what  human  rea- 
son attains  from  the  non-Christian  standard.  Will  this  suf- 
fice to  sustain  American  institutions?  One  may  say:  Natural 
theism  may  deduce  quite  a  high  ethical  code,  as  witness  the 
Greek  philosophy.  So  could  a  man  who  rightly  construed  the 
data  of  his  consciousness  be  an  atheist;  even  the  atheist  might 
find  in  them  proof  that  conscience  ought  to  govern.  But  he 
does  not,  nor  does  the  pagan  reason  acf  as  Epictetus  specu- 
lated  .Let  us  begin  to  legislate  for  the  people  as  they  ought  to 
be,  and  we  shall  have  a  fine  card-castle.  In  fact,  Americans, 
taken  as  we  find  them,  who  do  not  get  their  moral  restraints 
from  the  Bible,  have  none.  If,  in  our  moral  training  of  the 
young,  we  let  go  the  'Thus  saith  the  Lord,"  we  shall  have  no 
hold  left.  The  training  which  does  not  base  duty  on  Christian- 
ity is,  for  us,  practically  immoral.  If  testimony  to  this  truth 
is  needed,  let  the  venerable  Dr.  Griffin,  of  a  former  generation, 
be  heard.  ''To  educate  the  mind  of  a  bad  man  without  correct- 
ing his  morals  is  to  put  a  sword  into  the  hands  of  a  maniac." 
Let  John  Locke  be  heard.  "It  is  virtue,  then,  direct  virtue, 
which  is  the  hard  and  valuable  part  to  be  aimed  at  in  educa- 
tion." *******  ''If  virtue  and  a  well-tempered  soul  be  not 
got  and  settled  so  as  to  keep  out  ill  and  vicious  habits,  lan- 
guages and  science,  and  all  the  other  accomplishments  of  edu- 
cation, will  be  to  no  purpose  but  to  make  the  worse  or  more  dan- 
gerous man."  Let  Dr.  Francis  Wayland  be  heard.  ''Intel- 
lectual cultivation  may  easily  exist  without  the  existence  of 
virtue  or  love  of  right.  In  this  case  its  only  effect  is  to  stim- 
ulate desire;  and  this,  unrestrained  by  the  love  of  right,  must 
eventually  overturn  the  social  fabric  which  it  at  first  erected." 
Last,  let  Washington  be  heard,  in  his  farewell  address,  where 
he  teaches  that  the  virtue  of  the  citizens  is  the  only  basis  for 


8ECTTLARIZED   EDUCATION.  237 

social  safety,  and  that  the  Christian  religion  is  the  only  ade- 
quate basis  for  that  virtue. 

But,  is  not  mental  culture  per  se  elevating?  It  is  hard  for 
us  to  give  up  this  flattery,  because  hitherto  education  has  been 
more  or  less  Christian.  The  minister  has  been  the  American 
school-master.  But  are  not  the  educated  the  more  elevated? 
Yes.  For  the  reason  just  given,  and  fDr  another;  not  that  their 
mental  culture  made  them  seek  higher  morals,  but  their  (and 
their  parents')  higher  morals  made  them  seek  mental  culture! 
We  are  prone  to  put  the  cart  before  the  horse.  Again  I  cite 
evidence.  James  Anthony  Froude,  a  witness  by  no  means 
friendly  to  orthodoxy,  quoting  Miss  Florence  Nightingale,  em- 
phatically endorses  her  opinion,  that  the  ordinary,  as  the  nat- 
ural effect  of  the  mere  communication  of  secular  knowledge  to 
youths,  is  only  to  suggest  the  desire  for  more  numerous,  and, 
for  the  bulk  of  men  whose  destiny  is  inevitably  narrow,  illicit 
objects  of  desire.  But  they  plead:  In  teaching  the  youth  to 
know  of  more  objects  of  desire  you  also  teach  him  to  know  more 
restraining  considerations.  The  fatal  answer  is  that  knowledge 
does  not  rule  the  heart,  tout  conscience  (if  anything  does);  mere 
knowledge,  without  God's  fear,  makes  desire  grow  faster  than 
discretion.  8ays  i^ir  Henry  Bulwer:  ''I  do  not  place  much  con- 
fidence in  the  philosopher  who  pretends  that  the  knowledge 
which  develops  the  passions  is  an  instrument  for  their  suppres- 
sion, or  that  where  there  are  the  most  desires  there  is  likely 
to  be  the  most  order,  and  the  most  abstinence  in  their  gratifica- 
tion.'' Again,  the  soul  should  grow  symmetrically.  Let  the 
boughs  of  a  tree  grow,  while  the  roots  (without  actual  disease) 
stand  still;  the  first  gale  would  blow  it  over,  because  of  the  dis- 
proportion of  its  parts, 

Fifth,  We  need  the  best  men  to  teach  our  children.  The 
best  are  true  Christians,  who  carry  their  religion  into  every- 
thing. Such  men  neither  can  nor  will  bind  themselves  to  hold 
so  influential  a  relation  to  precious  souls  for  wlioui  Christ  died, 
and  make  no  effort  to  save  them.  So  the  tendency  must  be 
towards  throwing  State  schools  into  the  hands  of  half-hearted 
Christians  or  of  contemptuous  unbelievers.  Can  such  be  even 
trusted  with  an  important  secular  task?  Railroads  persist  in 
breaking  the  Sabbath;  so  they  must  be  served  on  the  track  ex- 
clusively by  profane  Sabbath-breakers  or  truckling  professors 


238  SECULARIZED   EDUCATION. 

of  religion.  The  consequence  is,  they  are  scourged  with  negli- 
gent officials,  drunken  engineers,  and  defaulting  cashiers.  So  the 
State  will  fall  into  the  hands  of  teachers  who  will  not  even  teach 
secular  learning  honestly;  money  will  be  wasted,  and  the  schools 
will  become  corrupting  examples  to  their  own  pupils  of  slight- 
ed work  and  abused  trusts. 

Sixth,  To  every  Christian  citizen,  the  most  conclusive  argu- 
ment against  a  secularized  education  is  contained  in  his  own 
creed  touching  human  responsibility.  According  to  this,  obli- 
gation to  God  covers  all  of  every  man's  being  and  actions.  Even 
if  the  act  be  correct  in  outward  form,  which  is  done  without 
any  reference  to  his  will,  he  will  judge  it  a  shortcoming.  ''The 
ploughing  of  the  wicked  is  sin."  The  intentional  end  to  which 
our  action  is  directed  determines  its  moral  complexion  su- 
premely. Second,  Our  Savior  has  declared  that  there  is 
no  moral  neutrality:  ''He  that  is  not  with  him  is  against  him, 
and  he  that  gathereth  not  with  him  scattereth  abroad."  Add 
now  the  third  fact,  that  every  man  is  born  in  a  state  of 
alienation  from  Grod;  that  practical  enmity  and  atheism  are  the 
natural  outgrowth  of  this  disposition;  that  the  only  remedy 
for  this  natural  disease  of  man's  spirit  is  gospel  truth.  The  com- 
parison of  these  truths  will  make  it  perfectly  plain  that  a  no//- 
Christian  training  is  literally  an  anti  Christian  training. 

This  is  the  conclusive  argument.  The  rejoinder  is  at- 
tempted; that  Christians  hold  this  theology  as  church  mem- 
bers, and  not  as  citizens;  and  that  we  have  ourselves  urged  that 
the  State  is  not  an  evangelical  agent,  and  its  proper  business  is 
not  to  convert  souls  from  original  sin.  True,  but  neither  has  it 
a  right  to  become  an  anti-evangelical  agency,  and  resist  the 
work  of  the  spiritual  commonwealth.  While  the  State  does  not 
authorize  the  theological  beliefs  of  the  Christian  citizens,  neith- 
er has  it  a  right  to  war  against  tliem.  While  we  have  no  right 
to  ask  the  State  to  propagate  our  theology,  we  have  a  right  to 
demand  that  it  shall  not  oppose  it.  But  to  educate  souls  thus  is 
to  oppose  it,  because  a  non-Christian  training  is  an  anti-Chris- 
tian training.  It  may  be  urged  again,  that  this  result,  if  evil, 
will  not  be  lessened  by  the  State's  ceasing  to  teach  at  all,  for 
then  the  training  of  youth  will  be,  so  fas  as  she  is  concerned, 
equally  non-Christian.  The  answer  is,  that  it  is  one  thing  to  tol- 
erate a  wrong  as  done  by  a  party  over  whom  we  have  not  law- 


secularized'education.  239 

ful  control,  but  wholly  another  to  perpetrate  that  wronj;-  our- 
selves. For  the  State  thus  to  do  what  she  ought  to  rondeuin  in 
the  godless  parent,  though  she  be  not  auth;:>rized  to  interfere 
would  be  the  sin  of  "■framing  fnischief  by  a  Imv''  the. very  trait 
of  that  ''throne  of  iniquity"  with  wliich  the  Lord  cannot  have 
fellowship. 

It  is  objected  again,  that  if  the  State  may  govern  and  pun- 
ish, which  are  moral  functions,  she  may  also  teach.  If  we  are 
prepared  for  the  theDcratic  idea  of  the  State,  which  makes  it  the 
universal  human  assiociation,  To  I  lav  of  human  organisms, 
bound  to  do  everything  for  society  from  mending  a  road  or 
draining  a  marsh  up  to  supporting  a  religion,  then  we  can  con- 
clude thus.  But  then  consistency  will  add  to  State  schools  a 
State  religion,  a  beneficed  clergy,  a  religious  test  for  office,  and 
State  power  wielded  to  suppress  theological  as  well  as  social  er- 
ror. Again,  while  secular  ruling  and  punishing  are  ethical  func- 
tions, they  are  sufficiently  grounded  in  the  light  of  natural  the- 
ism. But  teaching  is  a  spiritual  function — -in  the  sense  defined 
— and  for  teaching  beings  fallen,  and  in  moral  ruin,  natural  the- 
ism is  wholly  inadequate,  as  witness  the  state  of  pagan  society. 
Christian  citizens  are  entitled  (not  by  the  State,  but  by  one 
higher,  God)  to  hold  that  the  only  teaching  adequate  for  this 
fallen  soul  is  redemption.  But  of  this  the  State,  as  such,  knows 
nothing.  As  God's  institute  for  realizing  secular  justice,  she 
does  know  enough  of  moral  right  to  be  a  praise  to  them  that  do 
well  and  a  terror  to  evil-doers. 

The  most  plausible  evasion  is  this :  Since  education  is  so 
comprehensive  a  work,  why  may  there  not  be  a  ''division  of 
labor?''  Let  the  State  train  the  intellect  and  the  Christian 
parent  and  the  Church  train  the  conscience  and  heart  in  the 
home  and  the  house  of  worship.  \Yitli  this  solution  some 
Christians  profess  themselves  satisfied.  Of  course  such  an  ar- 
rangement would  not  be  so  bad  as  the  neglect  of  the  heart  by 
both  State  and  parent. 

Points  already  made  contain  fatal  answers.  Since  con- 
science is  the  regulative  faculty  of  all.  lie  who  must  not  deal 
with  conscience  cannot  deal  well  with  any.  Since  the  soul  is  a 
monad,  it  cannot  be  equipj)ed  as  to  ditterent  parts  at  different 
times  and  places,  as  a  man  might  get  his  hat  at  one  shop  and  his 
boots  at  another;  it  lins  no  parts.     Since  all  nuilis  converge 


240  SECULARIZED   EDUCATION. 

towards  God,  lie  who  is  not  to  name  God,  must  have  all  his 
teachings  fragmentary;  he  can  only  construct  a  truncated  fig- 
ure. In  history,  ethics,  philosophy,  jurisprudence,  religious 
facts  and  propositions  are  absolutely  inseparable.  The  neces- 
sary discipline  of  a  school-room  and  secular  fidelity  of  teachers 
call  for  religion,  or  we  miss  of  them.  And  no  person  nor  organ- 
ism has  a  right  to  seem  to  say  to  a  responsible,  immortal  soul, 
"In  this  large  and  intelligent  and  even  ethical  segment  of  your 
doings  you  are  entitled  to  be  godless.''  For  this  teaching  State 
must  not  venture  to  disclaim  that  construction  of  its  own  pro- 
ceeding to  its  own  pupil.  That  disclaimer  would  be  a  religious 
inculcation! 

But  farther:  Why  do  people  wish  the  State  to  interfere  in 
educating?  Because  she  has  the  power,  the  revenues  to  do  it 
better.  Then,  unless  her  intervention  Is  to  be  a  cheat,  her  sec- 
ularized teaching  must  be  some  very  Impressive  thing.  Then 
its  impression,  which  is  to  be  non-Christian,  according  to  the 
theory,  will  be  too  preponderant  in  the  j'outh's  soul,  to  be 
counterpoised  by  the  feebler  inculcation  of  the  seventh  day. 
The  natural  heart  is  carual,  and  leans  to  the  secular  and  away 
from  the  gospel  truths.  To  the  ingenuous  youth,  quickened  by 
animating  studies,  his  teacher  Is  'Magnus  Apollo,  and  according 
to  this  plan  he  must  be  to  his  ardent  young  votary  wholly  a 
heathen  deity.  The  Christian  side  of  the  luminary,  if  there  is 
one,  must  not  be  revealed  to  the  worshipper!  Then  how  pale 
and  cold  will  the  infrequent  ray  of  gospel  truth  appear  when  it 
falls  on  him  upon  the  seventh  day!  In  a  word,  to  the  suc- 
cessful pupil  under  an  efficient  teacher,  the  school  is  his  world. 
Make  that  godless,  and  his  life  Is  made  godless. 

If  it  be  asked  again:  Why  may  not  the  State  save  itself 
trouble  by  leaving  all  education  to  parents?  The  answer  is,  Be- 
cause so  many  parents  are  too  incapable  or  careless  to  be 
trusted  with  the  task.  Evidently,  if  most  parents  did  the  work 
well  enough,  the  State  would  have  no  motive  to  meddle.  Then 
the  very  taison  d'etre  of  the  State  school  is  in  this  large  class 
of  negligent  parents.  But  man  is  a  carnal  being,  alienated  from 
godliness,  whence  all  those  who  neglect  their  children's  mental, 
will,  a  fortiori,  neglect  their  spiritual,  culture.  Hence  we  must 
expect  that,  as  to  the  very  class  which  constitutes  the  pretext  for 
the  State's  interposition,     the  fatally   one-sided   culture    she   give 


SECtTLARTZED    EDUCATION.  24l 

will  remain  one-sided.  She  has  no  right  t3  presiiine  any  tiling 
else.  Bnt.  if  may  be  asked:  Is  not  there  the  churcli  to  take 
lip  rliis  pai-r.  neglected  by  bntli  secularized  State  and  godless 
parent?  The  answer  is,  The  State,  thus  secularized,  cannol 
claim  to  know  the  Chuch  as  an  ally.  Besides,  if  the  Church 
be  found  sufficiently  omnipresent,  willing,  and  efficient, 
through  the  commonwealth,  to  be  thus  relied  on,  why  will 
she  not  inspire  in  parents  and  individual  philanthropists  zeal 
enough  to  care  for  the  whole  education  of  youth?  Thus  again, 
the  whole  raison  d'etre  for  the  State's  intervention  would  be 
gone.  In  fact  the  Church  does  not  and  cannot  repair  the  mis- 
chief which  her  more  powerful,  rich,  and  ubiquitous  rival,  the 
secularized  State,  is  doing  in  thus  giving,  under  the  guise  of  a 
non-Christian,  an  anti-Christian  training. 

It  is  also  well  known  to  practical  men  that  State  common 
schools  obstruct    parental  and  philanthropic  effort.     Thus,  par- 
ents who,  if  not  meddled  with,  would  follow  the  impulse  of  en- 
lightened Christian  neighbors,  their  natural  guides,  in  creating 
a  jjrivate  school  for  their  children,  to  make  it  both  primary  and 
classical,  now  always  stop  at  the  primary.     "The  school     tax 
must  be  paid  anyhow,  which  is  heavy,  and  that  is  all  they  can 
do."     Next,  children  of  poor  parents  who  showed  aspiration  for 
learning  found  their  opportunity  for  classical  tuition  near  their 
homes,  in  the  innumerable  private  schools  created  by  parental 
interest  and  public  spirit,  and  kindly  neighborhood  charity  nev- 
er suffered  such  deserving  youths  to  be  arrested  for  the  mere 
lack  of  tuition.    Now,  in  country  places  not  populous  enough  to 
sustain  "State  High  Schools,"  all  such  3'ouths  must  stop  at  the 
rudiments.    Thus  the  country  loses  a  multitude  of  the  most  use- 
ful educated  men.    Next,  the  best  men  being  the  natural  lead- 
ers of  their  neighbors,  would  draw  a  large  part  of  the  children 
of  the  class  next  them  upward  into  the  private  schools  created 
for  their  own  fannlies,  which,  for  the  same  reason,  were  sure  to 
be  Christian  schools.     The  result  is,  that  while  a  larger  num- 
ber of  children  is  brought  into  primar3-  schools,  and  while  the 
statistics  of  the  illiterate  are  somewhat  changed,  to  the  great 
delectation  of  shallow  philanthropists,  the  number  of  you  lbs 
well  educated  in  branches  above  mere  rudiments,  and  especial- 
ly of  those  brought  under  daily  Christian  training,  is  diminish 
ed.     In  cities  (where  public  opinion  is  chiefly  manufacliircdj 


242  SECULARIZED   EDUCATION. 

high  schools  may  he  sustained,  and  this  evil  obviated  so  far  as 
secular  tuition  goes.  But  in  the  vast  country  regions,  literary 
culture  is  lowered  just  as  it  is  extended.  It  is  chiefly  the  coun- 
try which  fills  the  useful  professions — town  youths  go  into 
frade. 

The  actual  and  consistent  secularization  of  education  is  in- 
admissible. 

But  nearly  all  public  men  and  divines  declare  that  the  State 
schools  are  the  glory  of  America,  that  they  are  a  finality,  and  in 
no  event  to  be  surrendered.  And  we  have  seen  that  their  com- 
plete secularization  is  logically  inevitable.  Christians  must  pre- 
pare themselves  then,  for  the  following  results:  All  prayers, 
catechisms,  and  BilDles  will  ultimately  be  driven  out  of  the 
schools.  But  this  will  not  satisfy  Papists,  who  obstinately — 
and  correctly  were  their  religion  correct — insist  that  education 
shall  be  Christian  for  their  children.  This  power  over  the  hopes 
and  fears  of  the  demagogues  will  secure,  what  Protestants  can- 
not consistently  ask  for,  a  separate  endownment  out  of  the  com- 
mon funds.  Eome  will  enjoy,  relatively  to  Protestantism,  a 
grand  advantage  in  the  race  of  propagandism;  for  humanity  al- 
ways finds  out,  sooner  or  later,  that  it  cannot  get  on  without  a 
religion,  and  it  will  take  a  false  one  in  preference  to  none.  Infi- 
delity and  practical  ungodliness  will  become  increasingly  preva- 
lent among  Protestant  youth,  and  our  churches  will  have  a  more 
arduous  contest  for  growth  if  not  for  existence. 

Perhaps  American  Protestants  might  be  led,  not  to  abandon 
but  to  revise  their  opinions  touching  education,  by  recalling  the 
conditions  under  which  the  theory  of  State  education  came  to 
be  first  accepted  in  this  country.  This  came  about  in  the  col- 
onies which  at  the  same  time  held  firmly  to  a  union  of  Church 
and  State.  The  Massachusetts  and  Connecticut  colonies,  for 
instance,  honorable  pioneers  in  State  education  in  this  country, 
were  decidedly  theoretic  in  their  constitution.  The  Reformed 
religion  was  intimately  interwoven.  So  all  the  Protestant  States 
of  Europe,  whose  successful  example  is  cited,  as  Scotland  and 
Prussia,  have  the  Protestant  as  an  established  religion.  This 
and  State  primary  education  have  always  been  parts  of  one  con- 
sistent system  in  the  minds  of  their  rulers  in  Church  and  State. 
A  secularized  education,  such  as  that  which  is  rapidly  becoming 
the  result  of  our  State  school  system,  would  have  been  indig- 


SECULARIZED   EDUCATION.  243 

naiitly  roprobated  by  the  Wintlirops  and  Mathers,  the  Kuoxs, 
Melvilles,  and  Chalmers,  and,  it  is  presumed,  by  the  Tholucks 
and  even  Bismart-ks  of  those  eommonwtMltlis,  wliieh  are  poinlc;! 
to  as  jireeedcnts  and  models.  It  is  submitted,  whether  it  is  ex- 
actly candid  to  quote  the  oj)inions  and  acts  of  all  these  great 
men,  for  what  is,  in  fact,  another  thing-  from  what  they  advo- 
cated? Knox,  for  instance,  urged  the  primary  education  of 
every  child  in  Scotland  'by  the  State.  But  it  was  because  the 
State  he  had  helped  to  reconstruct  there  was  clothed  with  a 
recognized  power  of  teaching  the  Reformed  religion  (through 
the  allied  Church),  and  because  it  was  therefore  able,  in  teaching 
the  child  to  read,  also  to  teach  it  the  Scriptures  and  the  Assem- 
bly's Catechism.  Had  Knox  seen  himself  compelled  to  a  sever- 
ance of  Church  and  State  (which  he  would  have  denounced 
as  wicked  and  paganish),  and  therefore  to  the  giving  by  the 
State  of  a  secularized  education,  which  trained  the  intellect 
without  the  conscience  or  heart,  his  heroic  tongue  would  have 
given  no  uncertain  sound.  Seeing  then  that  wise  and  good  men 
in  adopting  and  successfully  working  this  system,  did  so  only  for 
communities  which  united  Church  and  State,  and  mental  and 
spiritual  training,  the  question  for  candid  consideration  is: 
^Vhat  modifications  the  theory-  should  receive,  when  it  is  im- 
ported into  commonwealths  whose  civil  governments  have  ab- 
solutely secularized  themselves  and  made  the  union  of  the  sec- 
ular and  spiritual  powers  illegal  and  impossible? 

The  answer  may,  perhaps,  be  found  by  going  back  to  a  first 
j)rinciple  hinted  in  the  outset  of  this  discussion.  Is  the  direc- 
tion of  the  education  of  children  either  a  civic  or  an  ecclesiasti- 
cal function?  Is  it  not  propei'ly  a  domestic  and  parental  func- 
tion? First,  we  read  in  holy  writ  that  God  ordained  the  family 
by  the  union  of  one  woman  to  one  man,  in  one  flesh,  for  life,  for 
the  declared  end  of  "seeking  a  godly  seed."  Does  not  this  imply 
that  he  looks  to  parents,  in  whom  the  family  is  founded,  as  the 
responsible  agents  of  this  result?  He  has  also  in  the  fifth  Com- 
mandment connected  the  child  proximately,  not  with  either 
presbyter  or  magistrate,  but  with  the  parents,  which,  of  course, 
confers  on  them  the  adequate  and  the  prior  authority.  This  ar- 
gument appears  again  in  the  very  order  of  the  historical  gene- 
sis of  the  family  and  State,  as  well  as  of  the  visible  Church.  The 
family  was  first.     Parents  at  the  outset  were  the  only  social 


244  SECULARIZED   EDUCATION. 

heads  existing.  The  right  rearing  of  children  by  them  was  in 
order  to  the  right  creation  of  the  other  two  institutes.  It  thus 
appears  that  naturally  the  parents'  auhority  over  their  children 
could  not  have  come  by  deputation  from  either  State  or  visible 
Church,  any  more  than  the  water  in  a  fountain  by  derivation 
from  its  reservoir  below.  Second,  the  dispensation  of  Divine 
Providence  in  the  course  of  nature  shows  where  the  power  and 
duty  of  educating  are  deposited.  That  ordering  is  that  ///<?/«r- 
ents decide  in  what  status  the  child  shall  ibegiu  his  adult  career. 
The  son  inherits  the  fortune,  the  social  position,  the  responsibil- 
t}^,  or  the  ill-fame  of  his  father.  Third,  God  has  i>rovided  for  the 
parents  social  and  moralinfluencesso unique,  so  extensive,  that 
no  other  earthly  pow'er,  or  all  others  together,  can  substitute 
them  in  fashioning  the  child's  character.  The  home  example, 
armed  with  the  venerable  authority  of  the  father  and  the  moth- 
er, repeated  amidst  the  constant  intimacies  of  the  fireside,  sec- 
onded by  filial  reverence,  ought  to  have  the  most  potent  plastic 
force  over  character.  And  this  unique  power  Grod  has  guarded 
by  an  affection,  the  strongest,  most  deathless,  and  most  unself- 
ish, which  remains  in  the  breast  of  fallen  man.  Until  the  mag- 
istrate can  feel  a  love,  and  be  nerved  by  it  to  a  self-denjdng  care 
and  toil,  equal  to  that  of  a  father  and  a  mother,  he  can  show  no 
pretext  for  assuming  any  parental  function. 

But  the  best  argument  here  is  the  heart's  own  instinct.  No 
parent  can  fail  to  resent,  with  a  righteous  indignation,  the  in- 
trusion of  any  authority  between  his  conscience  and  con  vie 
tions  and  the  soul  of  his  child.  If  the  father  conscientiously 
believes  that  his  ow^n  creed  is  true  and  righteous  and  obliga- 
tory before  Grod,  then  he  must  intuitively  regard  the  intrusion 
of  any  other  power  betw^een  him  and  his  minor  child,  to  cause 
the  rejection  of  that  creed,  as  a  usurpation.  The  freedom  of 
mind  of  the  child  alone,  when  become  an  adult,  and  his  fa- 
ther's equal,  can  justly  interpose.  If  this  usurpation  is  made 
by  the  visible  church,  it  is  felt  to  be  in  the  direction  of  popery, 
if  by  the  magistrate,  in  the  direction  of  depotism. 

It  may  Ibe  said  that  this  theory  makes  the  parent  sovereign, 
during  the  child's  mental  and  moral  minority,  in  the  moulding 
of  his  opinions  and  character,  whereas,  seeing  the  parent  is 
fallible,  and  may  form  his  child  amiss,  there  ought  to  be  a  su- 
perior authority  to  superintend  and  intervene.     But  the  com- 


SECULARIZED   EDUCATION.  245 

plete  answer  is,  that  inasmucli  as  the  supreme  authority  must 
be  placed  somewhere,  God  has  indicated  that,  on  the  whole,  no 
place  is  so  safe  for  it  as  the  hands  of  the  parent,  who  has  the 
supreme  love  for  the  child  and  the  superior  opportunit3\  But 
many  parents  nevertheless  neglect  or  pervert  the  power?  Yes, 
and  does  the  State  never  neglect  and  pervert  its  powers? 
With  the  lessons  of  history  to  teach  us  the  horrible  and  almost 
universal  abuses  of  power  in  the  hands  of  civil  rulers,  that  ques- 
tion is  conclusive.  In  the  case  of  an  unjust  or  godless  State, 
the  evil  would  be  universal  and  sweeping.  Doubtless  God  has 
deposited  the  duty  in  the  safest  place. 

The  competitions  of  the  State  and  the  Church  for  the  edu- 
cating power  have  been  so  engrossing  that  we  have  almost  for- 
gotten the  parent,  as  the  third  and  the  rightful  competitor. 
And  now  many  look  at  his  claim  almost  contemptuously.  Be- 
cause the  civic  and  the  ecclesiastical  spheres  are  so  much  wider 
and  more  populous  than  his,  they  are  prone  to  regard  it  as  every 
way  inferior.  Have  we  not  seen  that  the  smaller  circle  is,  in 
fact,  the  most  original  and  best  authorized  of  the  three?  Will 
any  thinking  man  admit  that  he  derives  his  right  to  marry,  to  be 
a  father,  from  the  permission  of  the  State?  Yet  there  is  an  illu- 
sion here,  because  civic  constitutions  confer  on  the  State  certain 
police  functions,  iso  to  speak,  concerning  marriage  and  families. 
So  there  are  State  laws  concerning  certain  ecclesiastical  belong- 
ings. But  what  Protestant  concedes  therefrom  that  his  re- 
ligious rights  were  either  conferred,  or  can  be  rightfully  taken 
away,  by  civil  authority?  The  truth  is,  that  God  has  immediate- 
ly and  authoritatively  instituted  three  organisms  for  man  on 
earth,  the  State,  the  visible  Thurch,  and  the  Family,  and  these 
are  co-ordinate  in  rights  and  mutual  independence.  The  State 
or  Church  has  no  more  right  to  invade  the  parental  sphere  than 
the  parent  to  invade  theirs.  The  right  distribution  of  all  duties 
and  power  between  the  three  circles  w'ould  be  the  complete  solu- 
tion of  that  problem  of  good  government  which  has  never  yet 
been  solved  with  full  success.  It  is  vital  to  a  true  theory  of  hu- 
man rights,  that  the  real  indei)endence  of  the  smallest  yet  high- 
est realm,  that  of  the  parent,  be  respected.  Has  it  not  been 
proved  that  the  direction  of  education  is  one  of  its  prerogatives? 

But  does  not  the  State's  right  to  exist  imply  the  right  to 
secure  all  the  conditions  of  its  existence?    And  as  parents  may 


246  SECULARIZED   EDUCATION. 

SO  pervert  or  neglect  education  as  to  rear  a  generation  incom- 
petent to  preserve  their  civil  institutions,  does  not  this  give  the 
State  control  over  education?  I  answer,  first,  it  is  not  even  a 
pretext  for  the  State's  invading  the  parental  sphere  any  farther 
than  the  destructive  neglect  exists,  that  is,  to  stimulate,  or 
help,  or  compel  the  neglectful  parents  alone.  Second,  precisely 
the  same  argument  may  authorize  the  State  to  intrude  into  the 
spiritual  circle  and  establish  and  teach  a  religion.  But  the 
sophism  is  here:  It  is  assumed  that  a  particular  form  of  civil 
institutions  has  a  prescriptive  right  to  perpetuate  itself. 
It  has  none.  So  the  American  theory  teaches,  in  asserting  for 
the  people  the  inherent  right  to  change  their  institutions.  Did 
3ur  republican  fathers  hold  that  any  people  have  ever  the  right 
to  subvert  the  moral  order  of  society"  ordained  by  God  and  na- 
ture? Surely  not.  Here  then  is  disclosed  that  distinction  be- 
tween the  moral  order  and  any  particular  civil  order,  %o  often 
overlooked,  but  so  eloquently  drawn  by  Cousin.  So  far  is  it 
from  being  true  that  the  civil  authority  is  entitled  to  shape  a 
people  to  suit  itself;  the  opposite  is  true,  the  people  should 
shape  the  civil  authority. 

It  is  a  maxim  in  political  philosophy,  as  in  mechanics,  that 
when  an  organism  is  applied  to  a  function  for  which  it  was  not 
designed,  it  is  injured  au"d  the  function  is  ill  done.  Here  is  a 
farmer  who  has  a  mill  designed  and  well  fitted  to  grind  his 
meal.  He  resolves  that  it  shall  also  thresh  his  sheaves.  The 
consequence  is  that  he  has  wrete-hed  threshing  and  a  crippled 
mill.  I  repeat,  God  designed  the  State  to  be  the  organ  for  se- 
curing secular  justice.  When  it  turns  to  teaching  or  preaching 
it  repeats  the  farmers'  experience.  The  Chinese  Government 
and  people  are  an  example  in  point.  The  Government  has  been 
for  a  thousand  years  educating  the  people  for  its  own  ends. 
The  result  is  what  we  see. 

Government  powerfully  atfects  national  character  by  the 
mode  in  which  it  performs  its  proper  functions,  and  if  the  ad- 
ministration is  e(iuitable.  pure  and  free,  it  exalts  the  i>eople. 
But  it  is  by  the  indirect  influence.  This  is  all  it  can  do  well.  As 
for  the  other  part  of  the  national  elevation  (an  object  which  ev- 
ery good  man  must  desire),  it  must  come  from  other  agencies; 
from  the  dispensation  of  Almighty  Providence;  from  fruitful 
ideas  and  herGic  acts  with  which  he  inspires  the  great  men 


SECULARIZED   EDUCATION.  247 

whom  lie  sovei-eiguly  gives  to  the  nations  he  designs  to  bless; 
chietiy  fi-oui  the  energy  of  divine  Truth  and  the  Christian  vir- 
tues, first  in  individuals,  next  in  families,  and  last  in  visible 
churches. 

Let  us  suijipose,  then,  that  both  State  and  Church  recognize 
the  parent  as  the  educating  power;  that  the}'  assume  towards 
him  an  ancilhuy  instead  of  a  dominating  attitude;  that  the 
State  shall  encourage  individual  and  voluntary  effarts  by  hold- 
ing the  impartial  shield  of  legal  protection  over  all  property 
which  may  be  devoted  to  education;  that  it  shall  encourage  all 
private  efforts;  and  that  in  its  eleemosynary  character  it  shall 
aid  those  whose  poverty  and  misfortunes  disable  them  from 
properly  rearing  their  own  children.  Thus  the  insoluble  prob- 
lems touching  religion  in  State  schools  would  be  solved,  because 
the  State  was  not  the  responsible  creator  of  the  schools,  but 
the  parents.  Our  educational  system  might  present  less  me- 
dia nical  symmetry,  but  it  would  be  more  flexible,  more  practi- 
cal, and  more  useful.  KOBERT  L.  DAB^^EY. 


WILSON'S  SLAVE  POWER  IN  AMERICA.' 


History  of  the  Rise  and  Fall  of  the   Slave   Foiver  in   America.     By 

Henry    Wilson.     Boston:     James  R.    Osgood  &■>    Company,     3 

Vols.,  8vo.,pp.  67O,  720,  and  y "J 4. 

This  ponderous  work  is  what  the  well-iuformed  readct 
would  expect  from  its  author.  The  first  volume  professes  to 
treat  the  rise  of  slavery  in  the  United  States,  from  its  begin- 
nings up  to  the  admission  of  Texas.  The  second  continues  the 
history  of  the  sectional  controversies  about  it,  to  the  election  of 
Lincoln.    The  third  treats  of  the  war  and  its  results. 

Of  this  liuge  '"partisan  document/'  it  may  be  justly  said, 
that  its  staple  material  is  sophistry  and  misrepresentation,  and 
its  very  title  an  insult  and  falsehoDd.  In  the  sense  of  the  au- 
thor, there  has  been  no  "slave  power"  in  America.  It  suited 
the  purposes  of  the  consx)irators  among  whom  Mr.  Wilson  acted 
all  his  political  life,  ta  advance  their  project  of  riding  into  sec- 
tional domination  by  means  of  the  Abolition  phrensy,  to  imag- 
ine a  "slave  power"  in  the  South,  which  cherished  the  counter- 
part design  to  his:  that  of  usurping  the  authority  of  tlie  United 
States  to  extend  slavery,  at  the  expense  of  others'  rights,  over 
rhe  whole  country.  But  in  fact,  the  States  whose  citizens  owned 
slaves,  never  were  a  "slave  power"  in  any  sense  but  this:  that 
they  endeavored  to  employ  the  rights  guaranteed  to  them  by 
the  laws  to  protect  their  legal  property;  just  as  Ohio  sought  to 
prDtect  the  property  of  her  citizens  in  their  swine;  Kentucky 
hers  in  their  mules;  and  just  as  Mr.  Wilson  sought  to  protect 
his  property  in  shoes.  The  only  differences  were  that  the  South 
never  imitated  his  protection  of  his  shoe-making  profits  by  par- 
tial and  dishonest  tariffs;  and  that  those  interested  in  the  swine, 
the  mules,  and  the  shoes,  were  not  compelled  to  a  constant  self- 
defense,  because  they  did  not  experience  from  us  the  constant 
and  lawless  assaults  on  their  rights,  which  Mr.  Wilson's  set 
aimed  at  our  industries  and  lawful  interests. 

1 Appeared  in  Soii'krrn  Planter  and  F'^rmpr,  July,  189r.  248 


Wilson's  SLAVE  POWER  IN  AMERICA.  249 

The  book,  whose  very  title  is  false,  may  be  safely  expected 
to  furnish  abundance  of  similar  material  in  its  padres.  The 
reader  has  to  go  a  very  short  distance,  indeed,  to  find  this  ex- 
pectation verified.  The  preface,  in  its  first  paragraphs,  informs 
us  that  in  1860,  1861,  "treasonable  menaces  had  ripened  into 
treasonable  deeds.  A  rebellion  of  gigantic  proportions  burst 
upon  the  nation  with  suddenness  and  fierceness."  *  *  * 
"These  crimes  against  the  peace,  the  unity,  and  the  life  of  the 
nation,  and  these  sacrifices  of  property,  of  health,  and  of  life, 
were  the  inflictions  of  the  slavenpower,  in  its  maddened  efforts 
to  make  perpetual  its  hateful  dominion.''  Tliese  six  lines  con- 
tain just  seven  manifest  misstatements.  There  was  no  "na- 
tion"; for  the  United  States  were  then  a  confederation  of  sov- 
ereign i^tates,  and  consequently  there  was  no  "national  life,"  in 
]Mr.  Wilson's  sense.  Secondly,  it  was  hence  impossible  that  one 
of  these  sovereign  constituents  could  commit  "treason"  against 
its  own  creature,  the  common  agent.  Hence,  thirdly,  there  could 
be  no  rebellion  in  the  case.  Fourthly,  the  resistance  of  the 
Southern  States  against  usurpation  was  not  sudden;  it  had 
been  uniformly  and  long  foretold,  and  was  the  deliberate  and 
fore-declared  result  of  the  vital  aggressions  aimed  at  their  ex- 
istence. Neither,  fifthly,  was  there  any  "fierceness''  about  it, 
in  Mv.  Wilson's  sense.  The  South  jjrosecuted  ils  defensive  war 
with  a  humanity  and  moderation  chivalrous,  and,  in  the  light 
of  subsequent  events,  even  Quixotic.  Mr.  Wilson's  imagination 
had  evidently  not  recovered,  when  he  penned  this  preface  in 
1872,  from  the  imprsssion  of  "fierceness''  derived  from  his  own 
panic  at  Bull  Run,  when  he  fled  so  fast  from  the  "rebels"  lie  had 
come  to  see  conquered.  Sixthh%  none  of  the  miseries  of  this 
war  were  inflicted  by  the  States  of  the  South,  whom  Mr.  Wilson 
chooses  to  stigmatize  as  the  "slave  power";  for  they  desired 
onlj'  to  be  let  alone  in  possession  of  their  eonstitutiouiil  rights. 
The  war  was  caused  deliberately  by  Mr.  Wilson  and  his  party, 
who,  as  none  know  better  than  he  knew,  with  calculated  malice 
invaded  our  rights,  goaded  us  to  resistance,  and  refused  all 
compromise,  in  order  to  avail  themselves  of  the  Abolilion 
l)hrensy  to  revolutionize  the  government,  estal)lish  their  own 
faction  in  power,  and  gratify  their  spite  against  the  men  whom 
they  could  never  forgive  for  being  injured  by  them.  The  South 
made  the  war  only  in  the  sense  in  which  the  lamb  of  the  fable 


250  Wilson's  slave  power  in  America. 

muddied  the  stream  bv  drinking  belDW  the  wolf.  Seventhly, 
and  last,  the  Southern  States  never  had  any  "dominion,"  hate- 
ful or  otherwise,  to  perpetuate,  and  never  sought  any.  They 
never  aimed  to  be  anything  but  what  the  laws  entitled  them 
to  be,  coequal  parties  to  an  equitable  confederation.  The  only 
"dominion"  they  ever  had  was  this:  that  their  statesmen  had  sd 
commended  themselves  by  their  ability,  patriotism,  purity,  and 
disinterestedness  to  the  confederacy,  that  the  majority  of  the 
Northern  as  well  as  the  Southern  citizens  had  preferred  them  to 
demagogues  of  the  Wilson  type.  Hinc  illae  lachrymael  The 
true  solution  of  these  three  ponderous  tomes  is,  that  they  are 
the  howl  of  his  malice  at  the  American  people's  preference  for 
Southern  gentlemen  over  such  as  him,  and  of-  his  gratified  re- 
venge for  the  slight. 

He  begins  his  "history"  (I)  Vol.  1.,  Chap.  1.,  by  ascribing 
the  existence  of  slavery  to  men's  selfish  desire  to  live  at  other 
people's  expense.  This  solution  suits  the  slavery  of  his  own 
State  very  well;  for  they,  having  no  aliens  nor  savages  among 
them  by  providential  dispensation,  went  all  the  way  to  Africa 
to  steal  them  for  slaves.  But  the  accjunt  which  the  Bible  gives 
of  the  origin  of  slavery  (Gen.  ix.  25-27),  is,  that  it  came  as  the 
remedy  for  the  depravity  of  the  enslaved;  and  that  it  was  the 
righteous  means  ordained  by  God  to  protect  civilized  society 
against  the  vice,  laziness,  theft,  and  violence  of  degraded  per- 
sons, whose  wickedness  and  ignorance  rendered  them  unsafe 
depositories  for  the  franchises  of  citizenship.  Mr.  Wilson  is  an 
ardent  specimen  of  that  species  of  '"Christian"  whose  Bible  is 
no  rule  when  it  cros.ses  his  spite  or  his  crotchet.  The  Bible  ac- 
count of  the  matter  is  one  expressly  appropriate  to  the  South; 
for  we,  when  we  became  free  commonwealths  in  1776,  retained 
slavery  as  the  necessary  and  just  remedy  for  the  presence  of 
the  savage  Africans,  with  whom  the  ''Christians"  of  Xew  Eng- 
land and  Old  England,  those  simon-pure  Abolitionists,  had  de- 
luged us  against  our  protest. 

The  author  then  proceeds:  "American  slavery  *  *  * 
converted  a  being  endowed  with  conscience,  reason,  affections, 
sympathies,  and  hopes,  into  a  chattel.  It  sunk  a  free  moral 
agent,  with  rational  attributes  and  immortal  aspirations,  to 
merchandise.  It  made  him  a  beast  of  burden  in  the  field  of  toil, 
an  outcast  in  social  life,  a  cipher  in  the  courts  of  law,  and  a 


WILSON'S    SLAVE   POWER  IN  AMERICA.  251 

pariah,  in  the  bouse  of  Grod.  His  master  could  dispose  of  liis 
person  at  will,"  etc.,  etc. 

Here,  again,  the  errors  are  at  least  as  numerous  as  the 
propositions.  American  slavery  did  not  make  the  moral  per- 
sonality of  the  bondsman  ''a  chattel,"  but  established  properly 
in  his  labor;  precisely  the  thing  which  Mr.  Wilson  possessed  in 
his  shoe  factory  operatives,  in  a  much  more  selfish  and  grinding 
form  than  our  system.  We  did  not  make  the  African  a  ''beast 
of  burden  in  the  field,"  but  a  laborer,  more  humanely  treated 
than  ^Ir.  \Vilson's  hirelings.  We  did  not  make  him  an  "out- 
cast in  social  life";  he  possessed  among  his  equals  abundant 
social  ties  and  enjoj'ments,  and  was,  moreover,  connected  by 
real  and  tender  domestic  sj-mpathies  with  his  master's  family; 
a  thing  which  Mr.  WilsDn  never  dreamed  of  extending  to  the 
families  of  his  hirelings.  The  bondsman  was  not  "a  cipher  in 
the  courts  of  law."  His  life,  person,  and  chastity  were  ishielded 
by  the  same  law  which  protected  his  master;  and  his  rights  had 
such  full  recognition  here,  that  he  could  sue  his  own  master, 
with  every  advantage  in  the  litigation,  for  his  own  liberty,  if 
he  could  show  any  suspicion  3f  unjust  detention  in  (bondage. 
He  was  not  ''a  pariah  in  the  house  of  God."  He  worshipped 
and  partook  of  the  Lord's  Supper  in  the  same  sanctuary  with 
his  master;  and  with  at  least  as  little  social  distinction  as  exist- 
ed between  Mr.  Wilson  and  the  white  hireling  who  had  been, 
perhaps,  his  late  comrade  an  the  shoe-bench.  The  master  could 
not  "dispose  of  his  bondsman's  person  at  will."  The  law^  among 
us  secured  his  personal  safety,  life,  chastity,  Sabbath-rest,  and 
subsistence,  against  his  own  master.  Now,  to  appreciate  the 
wickedness  of  this  train  of  atrocious  libels,  one  must  remember 
that  this  man,  if  he  ever  took  pains  to  inquire  into  the  real  na^ 
ture  of  what  he  was  denouncing,  must  have  met  with  refuta- 
tions of  them  all  at  his  first  step,  and  that,  unless  he  literally 
stopped  his  ears,  he  must  have  often  heard  them  disclaimed  and 
refuted  in  the  Senate  of  the  United  States  by  Mr.  Calhoun,  Mr. 
Hunter,  and  Mr.  Chestnut. 

The  reader  will  be  curious  to  know  what  the  author  does 
with  the  slave-holding  and  slave-trading  record  of  his  awn  State, 
both  of  which  were  of  the  blackest  and  most  diabolical  sort.  To 
assume  that  an  American  Senator  of  Mr.  Wilson's  type  knew 
something  of  the  authentic  history  of  his  own  country,  might  be 


252  Wilson's  slave  power  in  America. 

a  very  violent  surmise.  But  it  would  appear  that  this  niau  knew 
he  was  deceiving;  because  he  refers  expressly,  Vol.  I.,  p.  6,  to 
]\Xoore's  "Slavery  in  Massachusetts,"  a  book  which  tells  the 
plain  story.  He  glozes  about  the  protest  of  one  or  two  old  gen- 
tlemen, in  the  early  days  of  the  colony,  and  some  abortive  and 
deceitful  legislation  against  the  slave  trade.  He  quotes  quite  at 
large  the  protests  of  the  Quakers  (whom  Massachusetts  was  then 
persecuting!)  He  informs  us  that  little  Rhode  Island  was 
actively  engaged  in  the  slave  trade,  and  that  Newport  was  a 
great  emporium  for  this  nefarious  traflQc.  But  he  takes  care  not 
to  tell  us  that  in  1637,  when  the  Plymouth  colony  was  but  sev- 
enteen years  old,  it  made  trial  of  its  infant  strength  by  sending 
out  the  slave  ship  ''Desire;"  that  the  most  fiendish  laws  were  de- 
liberately passed  and  habitually  enforced,  for  kidnapping,  en- 
i.'laving,  and  deporting  the  Indians  near  them,  from  whose  hos- 
pitality they  had  secured  their  homes;  that  the  "General  Court" 
of  Massachusetts  recognized  the  trade  as  legal,  and  took  a  share 
in  its  profits,  in  the  shape  of  an  impost;  and  that  the  United 
States  census  of  1790  found  six  thousand  slaA'es  in  this  little  and 
barren  territory.  These  facts  are  all  substantiated  by  Moore, 
AVinthrop's  Journal,  and  other  well-known  authors. 

But  we  pass  to  more  recent  facts.  Mr.  Wilson,  Vol.  II, 
Chap.  XLV.,  of  course  lauds  the  vulgar  old  murderer,  John 
Brown,  as  one  of  the  purest,  noblest,  and  most  disinterested  of 
heroes  and  Christian  martyrs.  He  has  no  objection  to  the 
crimes  of  the  old  cut-throat,  save  that  they  pursued  the  wrong 
method  for  assailing  slavery,  and  prejudiced  the  character  of 
the  party  to  which  they  belonged.  The  Senator  does  not  claim 
am'  credit  for  Brown's  exploits;  but  he  does  not  seem  to  care 
at  all  to  veil  the  fact  that  he  was  cognisant  of  his  plans,  and 
took  no  effectual  steps  to  preA^ent  their  execution.  That  is  to 
say,  this  sworn  Senator  of  the  Ignited  States  sat  silent  while  he 
knew  that  treason  against  not  only  the  State  of  Virginia,  but 
tlie  United  States,  was  brewing;  and  he  did  nothing  to  arrest 
the  crime,  save  dissuade  from  it  on  grounds  of  party  policy.  It 
was  well  for  his  neck  that  the  laws  of  the  United  States  did  not 
retain  the  doctrine  of  constructive  treason,  and  that  the  Con- 
stitution and  Government  were  so  soon  destroyed;  else  the  his- 
torian might  have  shared  the  fate  of  his  hero. 

As  a  specimen  of  his  historical  accuracy,  we  may  note,  Vol. 


k'' 


Wilson's  slave  power  in  America.  553 

III.,  Chap.  XII.,  where  he  assures  us  that  the  "capture  of  Wasli- 
iugton  was  among  the  first  things  laid  down  upon  the  rebel  pro- 
gramme.'' *  *  *  arpQ  gg-^g  ^Yie  capital  and  all  the  depart- 
juents  of  the  Government;  to  hold  Mr.  Buchanan  in  abject  sur- 
veillance during  the  remainder  of  his  term,  or,  if  he  should 
prove  too  refractorj-^,  to  eject  him  for  a  more  serviceable  tool; 
to  prevent  the  inauguration  of  Mr.  Lincoln,  and  make  Jefferson 
Davis,  or  whoever  should  be  chosen  leader  of  the  new  regime, 
President — these  were  the  real  and  avowed  purposes  of  the  con- 
spiracy." On  what  evidence  does  the  reader  suppose  he  as- 
serts this  marvelous  fiction?  Either  upon  the  reports  of  those 
notoriously  accurate  persons,  anonymous  newspaper-scribblers, 
or  the  gasconading  of  some  excited  stump-speaker!  Or  else  he 
albsurdly  wrests  the  expressed  purpose  of  the  leaders  of  the  Con- 
federacy, a/rer  it  became  rightfully  an  independent  power,  and 
had  been  reluctantly  forced  into  a  defensive  war,  to  end  that 
war  with  the  least  effusion  of  blood,  by  capturing  the  hostile 
capital!  He  also  asserts,  upon  evidence  equally  baseless,  the 
purpose  of  the  Confederates  to  reopen  the  African  slave  trade; 
although,  as  appears,  Vol.  III.  Chap.  IX.,  he  had  under  his  eye 
the  unanimous  adoption  by  the  Confederacy  of  a  Constitution, 
which  prohibited  that  trade  far  more  effectively  than  the  Con- 
stitution of  the  United  States. 

In  Vol.  III.,  Chap.  XLII.,  Mr.  Wilson  gives  his  version  of 
that  act  of  usurpation  and  lawlessness,  the  Emancipation  Proc- 
lamation. The  narrative  is  singular.  He  desires  to  represent 
this  act  as  the  deliberate  result  of  Mr.  Lincoln's  progress  in  con- 
scientious conviction  and  statesmanlike  insight.  He  would  fain 
have  us  believe  that  he  grew  honestly  to  it  from  a  more  defec- 
tive view.  But  even  the  brazen  armor  of  the  Wilson  forehead 
seemed  to  be  not  quite  hard  enough  for  this  assertion.  He  there- 
fore conveys  it  to  us  as  the  testimony  of  tliat  sheet,  always  so  im- 
.partially  and  correctly  informed  upon  American  alTairs,  the 
London  Times.  Now,  Mr.  Wilson  can  liardly  have  be(m  more 
ignorant  of  the  real  history  of  that  step  than  other  well-inform- 
ed contemporaries.  He  knew  that  Mr.  Lincoln,  as  well  as  the 
Freesoil  platform  on  which  he  was  elected,  always  and  express- 
ly disclaimed  the  right  and  purpose  to  meddle  with  slavery  in 
the  States;  that  Mr.  Lincoln  spoke  this  doctrine  and  swore  to  it 
at  his  inauguration.     He  knew  that  there  was  no  truth  what- 


254  WILSON'S    SLAVE  POWER   IN  AMERICA 

ever  in  the  pretext  that  the  right  to  liberate  the  seceded  States' 
slaves  had  emerged  as  a  war  power,  because  he  had  himself, 
after  his  Bull  Run  footrace,  vated  solemnly,  along  with  the  Con- 
gress and  President,  that  the  war  was  not  to  be  prosecuted  for 
purposes  of  emancipation,  but  only  to  restore  the  Union  as  it 
had  been;  and  that  Mr.  Lincoln  had  been  accustomed  to  reiter- 
ate this  doctrine  continually,  in  answer  to  all  the  urgency  of 
the  Abolitionists.  Only  a  fortnight  before  the  Emancipation 
Proclamation  appeared,  he  had  been  urged  by  a  committee  of 
these  fanatics  to  use  the  war  to  free  the  negroes;  when  the 
''martyr-President,"  with  the  suavity  and  refinement  which  were 
usual  with  him,  made  about  this  reply,  as  he  almost  expelled 
them  from  his  presence:  "You  must  either  be  fools,  or  must 
think  me  a  fool,  that  you  ask  me  to  do  this  thing  which  I  have 
no  right  to  do,  and  which  I  have  sworn  I  cannot  lawfully  do. 
The  Constitution  does  not  empower  me  to  make  war  to  free  ne- 
groes, but  to  restore  the  Union."  Yet,  in  ne  fortnight  there- 
after, he  did  the  perjured  thing!  Mr.  Wilson  doubtless  knew 
the  solution  of  the  question,  Whence  this  summersault?  The 
solution  was  this:  that  the  great  British  public,  though  pas- 
sionately anti-slavery,  had  at  length  been  so  thoroughly  awak- 
ened (largely  through  the  sagacious  efforts  of  Admiral  M. 
Maury)  to  the  deceitfulness  and  injustice  of  the  Yankee  war; 
that  public  opinion  was  pressing  the  ministry  irresistibly 
towards  that  just  act,  the  recognition  of  the  gallant  Confed- 
eracy. It  was  then  that  Lord  John  Russell,  the  Lilijjutian 
l)rince  of  the  pettifoggers  and  Abolitionists,  instructed  his  en- 
voy at  Washington,  Lord  Lyons,  to  inform  Mr.  Lincoln's  Gov- 
ernment that  there  was  no  artifice  by  which  the  British  people 
could  longer  be  restrained  more  than  a  few  weeks  from  recog- 
nition, except  the  playing  upon  their  anti-slavery  passions  by 
making  the  war  tangibly  a  war  for  abolition.  This  was  the 
news  which  caused  Mr.  Lincoln  to  hasten  to  forswear  himself. 
This  is  precisely  the  amount  of  credit  which  the  great  '"Libera- 
tor," and  the  party  he  represented,  deserved  at  the  hands  of 
their  "fellow-citizens  of  African  descent." 

Vol.  III.,  Chap.  XLVIL,  contains  our  author's  advocacy 
and  account  of  the  enormous  innovation  of  universal  negro 
suffrage.  On  p.  GT2,  he  intimates  that  tlie  few  sensible  men  who 
opposed  this  perilous  measure  were  very  naughty  children,  in 


Wilson's  slave  power  in  America.  2f)5 

that  tlipy  iiiipnted  a  partisan  desire  to  luaniifactiire  voters  for 
the  Radical  ticket,  as  the  motive.  He  would  have  us  believe 
that  their  motives  were  the  most  disinterested  possible,  and 
their  deliberation  the  most  cautious,  patient,  and  candid;  but 
that,  turn  whichever  way  they  could,  they  found  themselves 
shut  up  to  the  measure  of  universal  negro  suffrage,  by  their 
gratitude  to  the  two  hundred  thousand  negro  soldiers  who  had 
eaten  rations  for  the  salvation  of  "the  life  of  the  nation,''  by 
the  logical  consistency  of  their  principles  of  equality,  and  above 
all,  by  the  truculent  determination  of  the  "ex-rebels"  to  tram- 
ple on  the  colored  man,  unless  he  were  defensively  armed  with 
the  ballot.  Tlie  Senator  should  have  foreseen  how  dreadfully 
this  nice  story  was  to  be  damaged  by  the  "peaching''  of  an  ac- 
complice. Unfortunately,  Gen.  Sherman,  in  his  most  veracious 
Memoirs,  tells  us  that  Mr.  Chase,  the  power  behind  the  throne 
at  Washington,  assured  him  in  May,  18C5,  that  it  was  the  pur- 
pose of  the  Government  to  'bestow  universal  sulTrage  on  the 
negroes,  and  avowed  the  very  reason  which  ^Ir.  Wilson  pre- 
tends to  disclaim.     Sherman's  Memoirs,    \q\.  II.,  p.  373. 

The  author  died  in  1872,  bequeathing  to  his  country  the 
curse  of  his  public  career,  and  this  large  legacy  of  error  and 
prejudice,  to  }):iison  the  stream  of  history  for  those  who  believe 
in  him.  Sincr  his  death,  the  party  whom  he  represented  has 
been  covered  with  so  many  infamies  by  its  crimes  against  lib- 
erty and  public  virtue,  that  it  is  becoming  hard  for  even  the 
Yankee  mind  to  conceal  from  itself  the  dishonesty  of  Radical- 
ism. The  best,  and  indeed  the  only,  refutation  of  false  history 
like  this,  will  be  the  developments  of  the  future.  The  day  will 
come  when  all  men  will  recognize  the  truth  that  the  freesoil, 
the  warlike,  and  the  reconstruction  exploits  of  Mr.  Wilson's 
party  had  precisely  as  much  patriotism  and  sincerity  as  its 
Credit  Mobilier,  its  salary-grab,  its  executive  and  legislative 
bargains,  and  its  returning  boards.  This  is  tlie  only  answer  to 
slander  of  the  South,  to  which  the  audience  for  whom  he  wrote 
will  listen.  True  as  all  well-informed  men  know  our  criticisms 
to  be,  they  will  pass  for  nothing  with  his  people  at  this  time. 

It  may  be  asked.  Why  repeat,  then,  these  futile  corrections 
of  pertinacious  falsehood,  since  intelligent  men  at  the  South 
are  so  fully  informed  of  them,  and  othcn's  will  not  heed  them? 
We  write  for  the  generation  of  young  men  now  growing  up  at 


256  Wilson's  slave  power  in  America, 

the  South,  to  whom  the  ohl  regime  can  only  be  known  as  his- 
toiy.  The}'  will  be  prone  to  feel,  with  an  ingenuousness  natural 
to  the  Southern  gentleman,  as  to  his  fathers,  that  it  is  searcelj' 
conceivable  a  man  who  had  been  Vice-President,  should  write 
so  large  a  book,  so  prejudiced  and  false  in  its  very  structure. 
In  the  facility  of  their  charity  and  truthfulness,  they  will  find 
it  hard  to  appreciate  the  reality.  For  their  sakes  the  correct 
history  must  be  perpetually  reasserted,  and  its  falsifications 
unmasked.  The  task  is  a  tedious  and  repulsive  one:  to  refute 
again  oft-refuted  slanders  and  sophisms.  But  it  must  be  done, 
or  we  shall  have  a  generation  of  sons  befaoled  into  Mr.  Wilson's 
venomous  estimate  of  their  fathers'  deeds,  and  drugged  with 
his  poisonous  heresies. 

This  book  impresses  the  candid  reader  with  several  facts 
and  inferences  which  are  consolatory  or  instructive.  Mr.  Wil- 
son disijlaj'is,  in  his  vainglorious  desire  to  be  a  martyr  for  truth, 
the  estimate  which  respectable  and  sensible  men  at  the  Xorih 
almost  universall}-  held  of  his  party  at  its  origin.  He  tells  us, 
trutlifully,  that  Abolition  was  at  first  denounced,  alike  by  the 
Senate,  the  Bench,  and  the  Pulpit,  as  a  crime  and  a  mischievous 
and  senseless  fanaticism.  The  explanation  is,  that  the  men  of 
1833,  in  the  North,  while  no  friends  of  slavery  for  their  own 
society,  j^et  knew  enough  experimenlalh'  of  its  real  nature  to 
understand  the  diabolical  wickedness  of  Abolition.  Kespecta- 
ble  Northern  public  men  had  not  then  become  factionists.  They 
had  some  respect  for  law  and  covenants.  They  knew  what  Af- 
ricans and  slavery  were.  Hence,  they  knew  Abolitionism  to 
be,  what  it  has  proved  itself,  the  dire  enemy  of  the  Constitu- 
tion, the  African,  and  the  white  man,  at  once.  It  was  only  after 
the  school-master  and  school-marm,  the  hirelings  of  a  political 
faction,  and  its  Dugald  Dalgettys,  the  politicating  parsons,  had 
educated  a  new  generation  upon  the  pabulum  of  fictian  and 
hatred,  that  the  Wilson  tribe  began  to  appear  statesmen  and 
patriots,  and  his  libels  history. 

The  attentive  reader  will  rise  from  the  perusal  of  this  book 
also  impressed  with  another  fact:  the  Freesoil  party  never  de- 
signed anything  short  of  the  utter  overthrow  of  Southern  rights. 
Every  page  reveals,  directly  or  indirectly,  that  it  was  not  free- 
soil  in  the  territories,  but  the  destruction  of  the  South,  which 
was  its  real  aim.    The  pretense  of  the  Lincoln  platform,  that  the 


Wilson's  slave  Power  m  aMerIca  ^fet 

right  of  the  States  over  their  own  institutions  was  inviolable, 
fades  away  as  one  reads,  into  an  invisible  veiL  There  is  here 
the  consolation  that  the  resistance  of  the  South,  which  was  the 
occasioUjNOT  THE  CAUSE, of  SO  much  woe,  was  not  an  act  of 
gratuitous  heat.  It  was  the  work  of  the  Southern  masses,  and 
not,  as  Mr.  Wilson  pretends  to  believe,  of  the  leaders.  Our  lead- 
ers were  mosth'  behind  the  emergency,  and  were  still  crying  to 
the  ipeople.  Peace!  when  there  was  no  peace.  But  the  honest 
sense  of  the  people  had  an  intuition  of  the  true  state  of  the 
crisis;  that  it  was  their  vital  rights  which  were  aimed  at.  This 
book  convinces  the  reader  again  that  the  people  were  right. 

Mr.  Wilson  evinces  also  the  vast  mischief  done  to  their  own 
section  by  a  certain  type  of  S3uthern  men,  once  much  admired 
among  us.  The  slaveholder  of  this  class  was  usually  a  gentle- 
man of  some  culture,  and  by  affectation  a  philanthropist.  He 
had  probably  been  educated  at  Harvard,  Amherst,  Yale,  or 
Princeton.  .Accustomed  to  the  simple,  unaffected  honesty  of 
Southern  cultivated  sentiment,  and  the  disinterestedness  of 
Southern  patriotism,  he  was  simply  incapable  of  believing  in 
the  duplicity  and  one-sidedness  of  Northern  politics.  When  his 
more  clear-sighted  neighbor  cautioned  him,  his  answer  was: 
"For  shame  I  Do  not  yield  to  prejudices  sa  bitter."  So,  in  his 
unsophisticated  eyes,  all  that  glittered  from  the  Yankee  mint 
of  opinion,  passed  for  gold.  He  imbibed  with  docility  the  fic- 
tions which  were  given  him  as  history,  and  the  pretentious  so- 
cial science  which  had  libels  and  boasts  far  its  main  facts.  When 
he  returned  from  the  North,  and  contrasted  its  prosperity, 
bloated  with  commercial  plunderings  of  the  South,  and  protec- 
tive tariffs  and  bounties,  and  endless  jobs,  with  the  leanness  of 
the  South,  he  accepted  the  solution  which  his  professor  of  this 
profitable  philosophy  had  so  industriously  "dinned  into  him,'' 
that  this  was  the  curse  of  slavery-.  Thus,  so  soon  as  he  became 
a  petty  politician,  he  sought  occasion  to  utter  the  spurious  wis- 
doui  of  his  alien  teacher.  Thus  he  became,  unintentionally,  an 
echo  of  the  slanders  of  the  enemies  of  his  own  people.  He  as- 
cribed to  slavery  a  depression  which,  but  for  tluit  most  ener- 
getic and  economical  form  of  labor,  would  have  depopulated  the 
South,  and  which  was  really  the  result  of  the  calculated  op- 
pression of  New  England,  through  the  Federal  Congress.  He 
babbled  the  imaginary  political  economy  of  men  who  never  saw 


258  Wilson's  slave  power  in  America. 

slavery,  and  who  argued  from  assumed  facts  which  never  ex- 
isted, its  impoverishing  etTects.    He  was  even  criminal  enough 
to  echo  the  shameful  indictments  against  the  morals  of  his  own 
people,  which  had  bivn  cunningly  thrust  into  his  mouth.     Xo 
where  was  this  species  of  nascent  politician  more  prominent 
than  in  Virginia,  in  rhe  Legislature  which  followed  the  ''South- 
ampton  insurrection."     These  young  members  ventilated  their 
logic  and  self-imirortance  by  spouting  in  Richnund  all  the  false 
facts  and  absurd  theories  which  they  had  imported  from  Yale 
and  Harvard,  about  "the  fearful  insecurity  of  the  system,  its 
injustice,  its  wastefulness,  and  its  debauching     effects     upon 
morals."    The  future  found  these  young  gentlemen,  indeed,  in 
two  widely  sundered  classes.    Those  whom  Mr.  Wilson  quotes 
with  most  admiration,  if  they  survived,  were  found  among  our 
most  despised  renegades.    The  rest,  as  soon  as  their  beards  were 
grown,  learned  better  wisdom,  and  with  a  happy  inconsistency, 
became  staunch  Southern  men.     But  the  mischief  was  done. 
They  had  given  the  truculent  assailants  of  their  fatherland  a 
text.    When  the  nu)st  brilliant  of  them,  James  McDowell,  in  his 
wiser  years,  essayed  to  stay  the  tide  of  fury  and  aggression  in 
the  Federal  Congress,  he  was  answered  from  his  own  speeches 
in  the  General  Assembly  of  Virginia.  And  Mr.  Wilson  has  again 
taken  care  to  embalm  all  the  most  extravagant  of  these  decla- 
mations in  his  storehouse  of  slander,  as  the  testimony  of  Vir- 
ginia's own  best  sons  against  her.    He  tells  his  readers  nothing 
of  the  other  side.    He  professes  his  wonder  that  Virginia,  after 
these  emphatic  confessions,   did  nothing.      He  says  nothing  of 
the  sober  logic  of  wiser  men  among  the  Virginians,  which  speed- 
ily blew  away  all  this  froth  of  youthful  eloquence,  leaving  the 
sober  reason  of  all  caimed  into  the  clear  truth  that  the  old  sys- 
tem was  safest,  best,  and  most  beneficent  to  the  African.     He 
never  heard,  we  presume,  of  the  masterly  essay  of  President 
Dew  of  William  and  Mary,  in  which  that  accomplished  man 
combined  the  finest  resources  of  the  historian,  the  jurist,  and  the 
political  economist,  to  evince  the  shallowness  of  the  emaucipa 
tion  rhetoric.     It  was  such  discussion  ;is  this  which  reassured 
Virginia  and  opened  the  eyes  of  all  her  young  anti-sla^  ery  men, 
save  such  as  were  ripening  into  future  scalawags.    But  mean- 
time they  had  slandered  their  own  mother,  and  her  emibittered 
enemies  will  talve  good  care  not  to  let  the  slanders  die. 


Wilson's  slate  power  in  awertca.  259 

111  cjiK-lusioii.  one  rises  from  the  perusal  of  this  book  vviiii 
a  moiiriiful  impression.  What  must  be  the  future  of  a  people, 
the  majority  of  whom  accept  such  writings  as  this  for  history? 
This  science  is  the  very  eye  of  statesmanship.  With  false  his- 
tor}'  for  pilot,  can  the  ship  of  state  land  anywhere  but  on  the 
breakers?  That  people  which  ''lives,  breathes,  and  has  its  be- 
ing" in  an  enveloping  atmosphere  of  falsehood  in  history  and 
ophisms  in  philosophy,  has  nothing  before  it  but  to  unlearn  its 
heresies  in  a  fearful  school  of  experience.  And  what  prospect 
has  the  8outh  for  just  or  even  merciful  rule,  when  subjugated 
l)y  a  people  who  believe  Senator  Wilsin's  black  rej)resentations 
about  us?  His  book  has  passed  already  through  four  editions. 
The  disdainful  and  imperious  North,  pleased  to  see  those  whom 
she  has  violently  crushed  accused  of  all  guilty  things,  will  never 
condescend  t^  look  at  any  reply,  until  a  retributive  Providence 
compels  her  to  read  it  in  the  calamitous  fruits  of  her  creed. 


FREE  SCHOOLS." 


Have  vdii  seen  a  single,  sensible  tax-payer,  not  a  small  poli- 
tician, and  tlius  a  suitor  for  impecunious  votes,  nor  a  selfish 
beneficiary  of  the  plunder  disbursed  by  our  school  system,  who 
does  nor  denounce  the  whole  measure  as  injust  and  mischiev- 
ous? I  have  not..  The  plan  has  been  tried  and  found  wanting. 
The  careful  observer  of  Northern  opinion  sees  that  while  the 
demagogues,  lay  and  clerical,  still  shout  for  the  system,  in  or 
der  to  catch  the  populace,  thoughtful  men  in  the  North  are 
more  radically  dissatisfied  with  it  every  year,  as  an  expedient 
for  American  commonwealths.  I  could  fill  quite  a  scrap  book, 
with  reflections  of  leading  Northerners,  upon  the  failure  of  the 
system  a;s  a  diffuser  of  any  real  intelligence;  upon  its  tenden- 
cies to  degrade  American  literature  and  obstruct  better  educa- 
tion (outside  the  cities)  upon  the  evident  increase  of  crime  and 
incendiary  opinions  under  this  system;  upon  its  obvious  bear- 
ing to  rear  up  an  atheistic  generation  of  people  and  prepare  for 
America  a  reign  of  terror;  and  upon  its  futility  even  to  diffuse 
the  art  and  practice  of  reading  among  the  laboring  masses. 
Such  a  scrap-book  might  be  edifying  reading  for  our  Utopians. 
It  seems  very  likely,  that  they  have  persuaded  Virginia  to  put 
on  the  costly  shoes  of  the  Yankees,  in  this  matter,  just  when 
they  are  getting  ready  to  kick  them  off  with  disgust. 

Their  consciousness  of  the  strength  of  our  arguments 
against  their  pet  plan  is  clearly  betrayed  in  the  false  issues  then- 
raise.  Because  we  see  that  this  pretended  way  of  education  is 
fallacious,  dangerous  and  wasteful,  we  are  the  ^^enemies  of  edu- 
cation,'* forsooth!  Let  us  see  if  even  their  reluctant  heads  may 
not  be  forced  to  admit,  that  a  man  may  be  a  true  and  hearty 
friend  of  a  good  work,  and  yet,  for  that  very  reason,  all  the  more 
opposed  to  a  pretended,  mischievous,  false  way  of  promoting  it : 
It  is  presumed  that  the  State  Commissioner  for  instance,  is  a 
true  friend  of  the  evangelization  of  all  the  people,  and  espec- 

1 Appeared  in  Southern  Planter  and  Farmer,  January,  1879.  -60 


FREE  SCHOOLS.  261 

ially  of  the  poor  and  ignorant.  Consistency,  therefore,  makes 
him  an  advocate  of  an  established  Church  to  do  the  evangeliz- 
ing, does  it?  Let  him  speak  out!  If  he  says  he  is  not  the  advo- 
cate of  evangelization  by  State-action,  and  3'et  the  ardent  advo- 
cate of  evangelization,  then  I  ask,  by  what  monopoly  of  candor 
or  honest}'  does  he,  while  claiming  this  for  himself,  impugn  our 
motives,  when  we  say  that  we  are  ardent  advocates  of  the  true 
education  of  the  poor  and  ignorant  (have  been  working  for  it  all 
our  lives);  and  yet  not  advocates  of  education  by  direct,  vState- 
action?  And  while  on  this  point,  I  will  add  another  question: 
If  a  man  reasons  consistently,  must  not  tlie  State-school  men's 
logic,  from  the  admitted  importance  of  education,  to  their  State 
scheme,  also  lead  every  Christian  to  advocate  a  State  establish- 
ment of  Christianity?  Why  not?  And  does  the  Superintendent 
remember  an  occasion,  at  which  I  was  present,  when  a  citizen  of 
Virginia,  eminent  for  moderation,  wisdom,  age  and  benignity 
of  character,  made  him  admit  that  very  c(mclusion,  as,  under 
certain  circumstances  following  from  his  positions? 

This  suggests  a  point  against  our  present  plan,  whose  for- 
midable character  is  now  making  thoughtful  men  at  the  North, 
and  in  Britain,  tremble.  The  Redeemer  said,  "He  that  is  not 
with  me  is  against  me."  There  cannot  be  a  moral  neutrality. 
Man  is  born  with  an  evil  and  ungodly  tendency.  Hence  a  non- 
religious  training  must  be  an  anti-religious  training.  The  more 
of  this,  the  larger  curse.  But  the  American  commonwealth  has 
expressly  pledged  herself  to  a  non-religious  attitude.  Hence, 
she  cannot,  by  her  State-action,  endow  or  inculcate  a  particular 
i-eligion.  While  the  population  of  some  States  was  homogen- 
eous, this  radical  difficulty  was  not  seriously  felt:  the  people  of 
a  Protestant  State,  like  Connecticut,  could  (luietly  oversteip  the 
true  history  of  their  own  constitution,  in  favor  of  Protestantism ; 
and  there  was  nobody  to  protest.  But  now  we  have  I'apists, 
Unitai-ians,  Chinese,  Jews  and  Atheists  by  the  myriads;  and  they 
will  not  acquiesce  in  the  wielding  of  State-power,  in  which  they 
have  equal  rights,  for  the  partial  advantage  of  a  creed  to  which 
they  are  opposed.  The  result  will  be,  that  their  protests  will 
triumph,  as  they  now  do,  in  many  States;  and  we  shall  have  a 
generation  of  practical  atheists  reared  "on  State  account";  just 
as  clear-sighted  men  in  the  North  see  they  have  on  their  hands 


262  FREE  SCHOOLS. 

there,  rapidly  prepariug  for  them  another     sans  culotte  revolu- 
tion. 

In  previous  discussion,  it  was  also  shown,  that  the  system 
of  State-schools  is  agrarian,  or  communistic,  contiscatiug  the 
property'  of  one  class  of  citizens  for  the  private  and  domestic 
behoof  of  another.  The  justice  of  this  charge  none  know  better 
than  those  who  mix  with  the  people;  the  power  to  make  the  rich 
man  educate  their  children  is  the  nuiin  feature  which  commends 
the  system  to  the  non-taxpaying  voters.  It  is  valued  by  them 
as  a  method  of  plunder.  We  have  also  shown  that  the  system 
is  levelling,  and  attemjjts  an  impossibility:  to  give  all  the  people 
literar}'  occupations;  whereas  in  all  countries,  and  in  spite  of 
universal  schools,  it  is  found  that  the  laboring  class  does  not 
read,  and  does  not  wish  to  read.  It  was  shown  that  the  scheme 
confounds  educatiou  with  a  knowledge  of  a  few  literary  arts 
(reading,  writing,  etc..)  which  are  not  education,  but  only  possi- 
ble means  thereof;  and  in  the  case  of  the  laboring  poor,  far  the 
most  questionable,  and  least  efficient  means  of  true  education. 
The  tendency  of  the  State's  interference  was  shown  to  be.  to  de- 
grade the  standard  of  literary  educatiou,  while  diifusing  its 
poorest  elements:  since  we  see  good  schools  disappear  as  the 
primary  ones  are  multiplied.  The  degradation  of  literature  fol- 
lows from  the  same  cause,  toy  reason  of  the  attempt  to  supply 
a  grovelling  or  shallow  literature  for  the  multitude  of  minds 
one-tenth  part  educated.  It  was  proved  \)y  stubborn  facts,  that 
common  schools  have  multiplied  crime  and  pauperism,  by  a 
natural  intlueuee,  suggesting  to  the  laboring  classes  new  wants, 
without  increasing  in  them  the  jjowei'  of  moral  self  control  or 
the  means  of  lawful  indulgence.  And  the  dishonesty  of  their 
advocates  has  been  again  and  again  exposed,  in  continuing  to 
appeal  to  their  deceptive  cry,  "Better  economy  to  build  school- 
houses  than  jails'';  after  //  hax  been  proved  to  them,  that  the 
multiplication  of  their  school- houses  has  multiplied  the  jails. 
The  fearful  dangers  to  the  morals  of  children,  by  i)romiscuous 
minglings  in  these  schools,  has  been  pointed  out;  and  are  re- 
ceiving confirmations  in  many  parts  of  the  country,  in  the 
spread  of  abuses  too  gross  to  be  ventilated  in  public.  The  cer- 
tainty that  our  schools  will  be  perverted  by  demagogues  for 
party  purposes,  was  pointed  out;  and  was  illustrated  by  facts; 
while  the  intolerable  and  tyrannical  nature  of  this  usurpation 


FREE   SCHOOLS.  2ij'S 

was  displayed.  Last:  the  lights  of  the  wiser  statesmauship  of 
better  da3's  were  adduced,  to  show  how  perilous  it  is  to  fix  on 
the  conmiunitv  any  system  whatsoever,  the  nature  of  wliich  is, 
to  subsidize  man}'  persons,  b^'  ^ivino;  them  a  seltish,  pecuniary 
interest  in  the  perpetuation  of  it,  or  of  its  abuses.  For,  should 
the  system  'i)rove  unwise,  or  should  new  circumstances  require 
its  change  or  repeal,  the  self-interest  of  all  these  subsidized 
classes  wall  prompt  them  to  clamor  and  defraud  the  public  mind, 
so  as  to  uiake  the  needed  repeal  impossible  or  extremely  diffi- 
cult. 

The  course  of  this  discussion  has  added  a  pungent  illustra- 
tiju  to  the  }>ower  of  our  last  argument.  No  sooner  was  discrim- 
inating inquiry  turned  upon  the  new  system,  than  it  was  dis- 
covered that  it  had  already  bribed  so  many  classes,  other  than 
tax-payers,  that  candid  and  patriotic  discussion  was  hopeless. 
A  State  Superintendent  in  the  metropolis,  a  counry  Superin- 
tendent in  each  county,  with  his  gang  of  petty  tax  gatherers, 
his  school  board  for  each  "townshi})."  his  campany  of  school- 
masters and  schoolmarms,  with  their  whole  cohort  of  pauper 
parents,  at  once  waked  up  to  the  fact  that  their  much  be  praised 
system  enabled  them  very  conveniently  to  keep  their  hands  in 
the  pockets  of  other  people.  All  these  joined,  in  many  places, 
in  raising  a  mercenary  clamor,  which  has  drowned  fair  discus- 
vsion.  And  our  minute  politicians,  in  whose  breasts  votes  are  the 
breath  of  life,  are  seen  so  intiuiidated,  that  hardly  one  of  them 
dares  whisper  a  doubt  against  the  idol  of  the  socialists.  The 
manner  in  which  this  debate  has  been  conducted  by  many  of 
tliese  petty  place  holders  would  have  been  enough,  were  Vir- 
ginia what  she  once  was,  to  overwhelm  the  whole  affair  with 
righteous  disgust  and  indignation.  Citizens  who  have  the  right 
of  tax-payers,  to  be  heard  touching  their  rights,  and  State-af- 
fairs; who  are,  in  many  cases  veneralble  for  grey  hairs,  for  ex- 
perience, for  integrity,  and  for  long  lives  of  labor  and  sacrifice 
for  the  honor  of  Mrginia,  have  been  seen  yelped  after  by  these 
otticials  (whose  only  known  service  to  the  State  has  been  draw- 
iug  salaries  wrung  from  it  by  a  grinding  taxation),  with  ob- 
locpiy  and  ridicule.  This  is  an  indecency  wliich  deserves  only 
chastisement. 

The  time  was,  when  Mrginian  oHicials  had  manners  and 
principle  enough  to  keep  silent  in  a  debate  touching  their  own 


264  FREE  SCHOOLS 

emoluments;  they  felt  that  delicacy,  not  to  say  common  de- 
cency, prompted  the  leaving  of  such  questions  to  be  considered 
by  that  larger  part  of  the  citizens  wh3  had  no  pecuniary  inter- 
est in  the  issue.  The  time  was,  when  Virginia  had  a  righteous 
constitution,  the  work  of  statesmen  and  not  of  demagogues; 
and  that  instrument  contained  this  provision:  That  no  mem- 
ber of  a  Legislature  which  debated  and  decided  the  creation  of 
a  salaried  ofBce,  shauld  take  office  under  the  act  creating  it. 
The  reason  of  this  excellent  law,  was,  that  the  very  indecency 
on  which  I  remark  might  be  made  impossible,  at  least,  in  the 
Legislature;  that  no  man.  when  handling  the  rights  of  his  fel- 
low-citizens and  of  the  State,  should  run  even  a  risk  of  having 
his  judgment  warped  by  a  pecuniary  and  personal  considera- 
tion. But  we  have  now  seen  all  this  indecent  clamor  from  the 
thraats  of  paid  officials;  and  we  have  seen  the  School  Commis- 
sioner actually  employing  the  people's  money  to  flood  the  State 
with  ex  parte  documents  and  arguments,  designed  to  forestall 
the  expression  of  the  people's  judgment  as  to  measures  in  de- 
bate before  them,  and  liable  to  be  justly  condemned  by  them. 
All  that  the  school  law,  bad  as  it  is,  could  pretend  to  create 
such  officials  for,  was.  to  execute  the  provisions  of  the  law.  But 
under  the  thin  jjretext  of  diffusing  information  about  educa- 
tion, they  misapply  the  people's  money  to  the  work  of  manufac- 
turing, in  Virginia,  a  Yankee  public  sentiment,  alien  to  the 
genius  and  traditions  of  Virginia,  promotive  of  the  continuance 
of  their  personal  emoluments!    And  Virginians  stand  this? 

The  utter  inadequacy  of  the  pretext  for  universal  negro 
schooling  was  also  pointed  out;  that  ''as  they  are  to  vote,  it  is 
our  duty  and  interest  to  educate  them  into  intelligent  voter's." 
We  showed  that  primary  education,  larger  than  that  given  to 
our  negroes,  had  utterly  failed  to  make  intelligent  voters  out  of 
the  white  proletariat  of  the  North,  and  we  urged  this  plain, 
honest  query:  What  right  have  they  to  promise  Virginia  that 
a  smaller  dose  of  their  physic  which  we  see  only  impotent  and 
mischievous  there,  will  do  any  good  here?  The  facts  they  dare 
not  deny;  but  at  the  i)lain,  stubborn  question  they  refuse  to 
look.  Blinking  that,  they  only  repeat  the  refuted  pretext,  an 
average  specimen  of  the  honesty  of  the  logic.  The  radical  na- 
ture of  the  perils  attending  negro  suffrage  was  pointed  out  to 
them,  from  difference  of  color  and  race,  alien  blood,  race  an- 


FEEE   SCHOOLS.  265 

tipathies,  savage  morals,  total  absence  of  property-stake  in  the 
common  weal,  subjection  to  poisonous  and  malignant  outside 
influences;  and  it  was  asked.  Will  such  a  mite  of  the  arts  of 
reading  and  spelling,  as  Virginia  free  negro  children  are  going 
to  retain,  be  any  remedy  at  all  fjr  these  strong  perils?  Every 
man's  common  sense  answers:  Just  as  trustworthy  as  a  minute 
bread  pill  for  the  yellow-fever!  Every  man's  common  sense  also 
shows  him,  that  while  this  sham-schooling  will  be  utterly  futile 
for  the  end  proposed,  it  will  be  efficacious  for  harm,  by  giving 
young  negroes  pretext  for  the  idleness  and  the  false  expecta- 
tions which  are  their  and  our  great  perils.  The  art  of  reading 
may  be  quite  a  good  thing  for  him  who  uses  it  aright,  but  these 
young  negroes  are  in  perishing  need  of  learning  many  things 
which  are.  for  them,  infiuitely  more  momentous  than  this  ques- 
tionable boon,  and  which  these  baubles  Df  schools  fatally  pre- 
vent their  learning;  how  to  turn  a  good  furrow,  how  to  make  an 
honest  day's  work,  how  to  groom  a  horse,  Inw  to  cook  a  whole- 
some loaf,  how  to  wash  a  shirt,  how  to  whet  a  scythe,  how  to 
mow  an  acre  of  grass  per  day,  and  aib:)ve  all,  how  to  live  with- 
out stealing.  We  solemnly  tell  the  schonl-men  that  they  are 
giving  the  country  a  generation  of  young  negroes  whose  inevi- 
tabledestinyistoworkor  steal,  whom  they  are  so  rearing,  that 
they  neither  wish  to  work  nor  know  how.  The  property-men 
of  the  country  cannot  hire  them,  because  they  know  nothing 
useful  to  an  employer;  and  the  young  negroes  would  not  hire 
themselves  if  they  were  fit  for  anything.  Come,  gentlemen,  lay 
aside  utopianisms,  and  sophisms,  and  "false  facts,"  and  tell  us, 
if  you  please,  what  Virginia  is  to  do  with  a  half  million  of 
young  negroes  thus  traiuf^d  to  impotency,  when  the  old  genera- 
tion, educaied  by  slavery  are  gone?  Give  each  one  of  them 
a  school  to  teach?  Will  they  not  all  have  the  natural  wants  and 
desires  of  human  beings?  Neither  able  nor  willing  to  work, 
will  they  not  take?  Can  poor,  impoverished  Virginia  stand  up 
under  so  much  lettered  i)aupensm?  Will  not  the  alternatives 
be  universal  bankruptcy  or  anarchical  resistance?  The  ques- 
tion is  solenm  and  urgent. 

We  urge,  again,  the  burning  injustice  of  the  present  law. 
taxing  the  former  owners,  after  plundering  them,  for  the  pre- 
tended education  of  negroes — Virginia  had  her  own  system  for 
educating  her  negroes.    It  was  a  good  system,  approved  by  two 


266  FREE  SCHOOLS. 

eeiituries  of  experience.  It  turned  miserable  savaj^es  intu  a 
decent,  useful,  Christian  peasantry.  It  even  diffused  fully  as 
mucli  of  the  arts  of  letters  as  the  Africans  were  in  a  condition 
to  profit  hy !  For  it  is  well  known  that  every  young:  negro  slave 
wlio  showed  any  wortliy  aspiration  at  all  was  usually  tau<?ht  to 
!'t  ad  in  his  master's  family.  It  was  a  system  of  education,  sol- 
emnly sanctioned  by  the  laws,  human  and  divine,  and  g^uaran- 
leod  to  us  by  the  Federal  Constitution  and  the  enactments  of 
C  )n<jre8S.  >\'ell,  it  suited  the  invader's  purposes  of  ambition 
to  tear  down  our  j;ood,  old,  legalized,  beneficent  system  of  edu- 
cation for  the  negro,  and  to  confiscate  our  property  in  him,  thus 
reducing  the  white  community  to  the  verge  of  destitution.  And 
then,  l^he  oppressor  turns  around  and  taxes  us,  already  so  ruth- 
lessly injured,  for  means  to  attemipt  a  new,  expensive  and 
worthless  system  for  repairing  the  ruin  which  he  had  himself 
perpetrated  in  destroying  the  well  tried  and  lawful  system!  The 
destruction  of  the  good,  old  system  was  his  work — a  work 
wrought  exclusively  for  his  own  aggressive  ends.  Let  him 
bear  the  cost\if  repairing  his  own  mi'Schief.  There  was  wicked- 
ness enough  in  the  doing  of  it.  in  all  conscience.  But  now,  when 
he  turns  ujvon  the  injured  party,  and  again  plundei-s  them,  un- 
dei-  the  pretense  of  taking  means  to  repair  Ms  own  first  crime, 
tL  ;  wrong  is  ''rank  and  smells  to  heaven."  I  see  not  how  any 
righteous  mind  in  Virginia  can  have  anything  to  do  with  it,  ex- 
cept to  protest,  while  he  unavoidably  submits. 

Hence  it  is,  that  when  any  white  man  among  us  pretends 
to  be  an  ex  awm^approver  of  this  plan,  my  common  sense  com- 
pels me  to  be  a  skeptic  as  to  his  sincerity.  The  old  Irish  fish- 
woman  tried  to  /persuade  her  customer  that  the  eels  rather 
liked  skinning;  but  the  eels  never  said  so;  and  had  one  of  them 
professed  satisfaction  with  the  i)rocess  pr  see,  I  should  have 
persisted  in  the  doubt  whether  he  were  a  candid  and  truthful 
eel.  From  this  i)oint  of  view,  the  sensible  reader  sees  that  the 
very  inception  of  this  State-school  matter  in  Virginia  stamiped 
its  motive  with  insincerity.  The  "Underwood  Constitution"  it- 
self, thrust  down  Virginia's  throat  as  it  was.  by  the  breech  of 
Provost  Marshal's  musket,  did  not  require  the  Legislature  to 
put  any  system  of  State  schools  in  operation  until  ISTO.  Every 
patriotic  reason  should  have  prompted  us  to  wait  as  long  as 
our  masters  allowed  us.    The  State  was  in  a  condition  of  finan- 


FREE  SCHOOLS.  207 

cial  exhaustion,  which  made  any  breathing  time,  linvever  short, 
a  boon  to  her;  and  her  credit  was  already  staggering  under  a 
load  she  coukl  but  just  carry.  There  was  no  experience  any- 
where in  the  w-orld,  to  guide  a  Legishiture  in  such  a  problem 
as  the  Taulervvood  Constitution  imposed;  the  education  of  two 
ditferent  and  hostile  races  on  tbe  same  soil  and  in  the  same 
system,  and  in  Virginia,  there  was  a  total  lack  of  experimental 
knowledge  of  kState  education  on  the  Yankee-plan.  It  would 
have  been  m'ost  beneficial  to  wait  a  season,  and  thus  gain  the 
benefit  of  other's  exj)eriments.  Our  conquerors,  whose  imiper- 
ious  will  imposed  this  plan  on  us,  then  had  the  full  fever  of 
their  hatred  and  tpiumphs  on  their  spirits.  Every  year  that 
passed  was  likely  to  abate  something  of  their  fury,  and  take 
some  of  the  ''wire-edge"  off  their  despotism,  so  as  to  hold  out 
the  hope  that  in  187G  they  would  'be  less  exacting  of  their  sub- 
jects than  in  1870.  At  least,  one  would  have  thought,  the  Legis- 
lature, driven  by  their  masters  to  so  vast,  expensive  and  un- 
tried a  work,  would  proceed  tentatively,  during  the  six  years 
of  grace,  and  risque  only  small  experiments,  until  they  had  felt 
their  way.  The  propriety  of  delay  is  evinced  by  this  i)lain  ques- 
tion: Does  anybody  dream,  that  in  1870,  after  the  Funding  Bill, 
after  all  the  experiences,  the  disappointed  hopes,  the  decline  in 
real  estate,  the  ebbing  of  resources  of  those  six  disastrous  years, 
any  Legislature  could  have  been  mad  enough  to  commit  the 
State  to  the  cumbrous  and  costly  incubus  fixed  on  us  by  the  ac- 
tion of  1870?  Nobody.  The  blunder  would  have  become  im- 
possible by  187G.  Well,  all  that  we  might  have  gained  by  the 
experience  of  those  six  years,  with  five  millions  of  dollars  (spent 
(ui  these  sham-schoolsj,  wliicli  might  either  have  paid  off  one- 
sixth  of  our  whole  debt,  saving  the  State's  credit;  or,  if  left  in 
the  people's  hands,  might  have  fecundated  private  enterprise 
all  over  the  State;  all  this  our  Legislature  threw  away  in  1870. 
by  its  precipitate,  superserviceable  zeal  in  carrying  out  the  or- 
ders of  our  conquerors.  Why  did  they  thus  run  six  years  ahead 
of  their  maister's  own  orders,  in  the  face  of  all  these  obvious 
considerations  for  delay?  To  buy  votes  for  themselves  in  coun- 
ty elections;  to  disarm  the  objections  of  radical  demagogues, 
who  were  hounding  on  the  negro  voters  after  the  spoils  of  the 
promised  school-system;  to  ingratiate  themselves  with  the  non- 
tax-paying voters,  by  giving  them  speedily    this    pretext  for 


268  FEEE  SCHOOLS. 

thrusting  their  liunds  iuto  their  neighbor's  pockets.  Thus  the 
system  was  begun,  not  in  wisdom  or  patriotism,  but  in  self  seek- 
ing. Is  it  asserted  that  it  was  necessary  to  thraw  this  "tub  to 
the  whale''  at  once  in  order  to  appease  radicalism  and  save  the 
State  government  from  its  clutches?  I  reply  by  the  question: 
IVas  radicalism  appeased?  Did  it  not  wield  the  whole  negro 
vote  substantially,  notwithstanding  the  '^tub?"  The  State  was 
saved  from  its  foul  clutch,  not  by  any  aippeasing  or  dividing  of 
its  greed,  but  in  spite  of  that  greed.  Had  the  ruler  of  the  State 
and  the  leaders  of  the  Conservative  party  then  assumed  a  quiet, 
honest  position  they  would  have  met  the  clamor  for  precipitating 
the  school-system  thus:  "When  the  stipulated  time  comes,  we 
shall  duly  perform  the  covenant,  which  a  hard  necessity  has 
forced  us  to  agree  to.  The  poverty  of  the  State  and  the  true  in- 
terests of  both  races  forbid  our  anticipating  the  task.  No  obli- 
gation exist  to  do  so,  consequently  no  charge  of  bad  faith  can 
lie  f3r  our  not  doing  so."  This  honest  attitude  would  have  been 
so  impregnable  that  ir  would  have  put  the  Conservative  party  in 
a  far  better  iposition  before  its  enemy  than  it  ever  gained  from 
its  cowardly  haste  and  rashness. 

But  I  have  still  more  practical  objections  to  make  against 
our  present  school-laws  and  their  administration.  I  charge  that, 
even  if  we  granted  the  propriety  of  the  Yankee  theory  of  uni- 
ver.sal  common-scho  )1  education  on  State  account  and  under 
State  control;  even  if  the  Underwood  Constitution  were  right 
in  this  thing — which  I  utterly  deny — still  our  present  system 
is  wicked,  tyrannical,  wasteful  and  unnecessarily  burdensome 
to  an  imjtoverished  ])eople.  and  comparatively  inefficient  as  an 
execution  of  its  advocates'  own  false  theory.  If  it  be  granted 
that  theory  is  to  prevail  in  Virginia,  still  the  present  school- 
laws  and  their  administration  are  flagrantly  vicious,  and  call 
for  tl)e  ref(n'm  of  the  Legislature.  This  I  shall  prove  in  a  prac- 
rical  way,  by  comparing  it  with  actual  results  in  the  present  and 
the  past.  My  argument  will  proceed  on  the  maxim,  that  what 
has  been  done  by  others  in  the  same  circumstances,  can  be  done 
by  Virginia. 

First.  I  bring  our  boasters  to  the  test  of  a  comparison  with 
the  existing  system  in  the  State  of  G.eorgia,  the  "Empire  State 
of  the  South."  Georgia,  like  us,  has  been  forced  by  her  con- 
querors to  embark  in  the  Yankee  theory  of  universal  primary 


FREE  SCHOOLS.  260 

education  on  State  account  and  und(M-  State  control.  The  vital 
article  of  their  present  Constitution  compelling-  this  is  as  fol- 
lows :* 

''There  shall  be  a  thorough  system  of  common  sclijols  for 
the  education  of  children  in  the  elementary  branches  of  our 
English  education  only,  as  nearly  uniform  as  practicable,  the 
expenses  of  which  shall  be  provided  for  by  taxation  or  other- 
wise. The  schools  shall  be  free  to  all  children  of  the  State,  but 
separate  schools  sha-ll  be  provided  for  the  white  and  colored 
races." 

The  revenues  provided  by  the  ConstitutiDu  and  laws,  to 
support  all  the  schools,  **  are  the  poll  tax,  the  interest  on  the 
existing  school  fund,  a  special  tax  on  shows,  a  tax  on  the  sale 
of  liquors,  a  dog  tax,  and  half  the  net  earnings  of  the  ''State 
railroad." 

No  property  tax  is  laid,  either  on  State  or  local  account, 
on  any  real  or  personal  property  of  individuals,  to  smpport  com- 
mon schools.  Thus  the  grand  iniquity  of  our  agrarian  system  is 
avoided.  Even  the  Legislature  is  sternly  inhibited  from  au- 
thorizing any  local  taxations,  by  any  local  authority  whatso- 
ever, for  school  purposes,  until  the  tax  has  been  expressly  ap- 
proved by  two-thirds  of  the  voters  of  the  locality  (city,  or  coun- 
ty, or  town).  Even  this  guarded  power  the  Legislature  has 
hitherto  wisely  refused  to  grant;  and  so  far  no  property  tax  is 
wrested  from  any  one  citizen  to  help  to  educate  another  man  h 
family. 

Now  let  us  contrast  our  "bill  of  abominations."  The  Legis- 
lature,* in  addition  to  the  income  of  the  ''literary  fund"  and  cer- 
tain escheats  and  fines,  levies  on  all  property,  for  a  general  or 
State  school  fund,  a  direct  tax  of  ten  cents  per  .flOO  annually. 
But  this  outrage  is  only  the  small  beginning.  The  county  school 
board  may  also  tax  all  property  in  the  county  to  the  same  rate; 
and  the  "district  school  board,"  the  littlest  and  last  gradation 
of  petty  tyranny,  the  three  trustees  of  a  township,  may  exercise 
this  highest  attribute  of  sovereignty,  and  tax  their  (fellow-oiti- 
zens,  I  was  about  to  write,  erroneously)  subjects,  to  the  rate  of. 
ten  cents  on  the  flOO  of  all  property!    Thu.s,  besides  the  other 

~-  *Const.  or  Ga..  Art    viii.  §  1. 
m  *  *Const.  Art.  viii  .  S  S:    Pub.  Sch  Liiw.s  of  Ga. 
;:    •■31:    Const    Art  viii..  §  4.     Sch.  Report  of  G:i  .  1887.  p.  1::. 

* -School  Law  of  Vu.  codiffed."  pp.  19. 2-3:  Actof  As.serQbl.v  Jau     11.   1WT7.      -School 
Laws  codilied.  "  p.  -l'. 


2T0  fREll   SCHOOLS. 

very  considerable  exactions  which  come  ultimately  from  the 
people,  we  have  property  taxed  30  cents  on  every  |100.  to  edu- 
cate the  children  of  those  who  pay  no  tax,  or  nearly  naue.  This 
is  three-fourths  of  all  the  property  tax  the  State  of  Virginia 
used  to  require  for  all  the  ends  of  government,  in  the  days  of 
her  glory  and  greatness;  and  three-fifths  of  all  that  she  now  ex- 
acts for  all  her  other  purposes,  in  these  days  of  enormous  and 
reckless  taxation  and  expenditure!  But  who  are  the  "county 
board"  and  the  "district  board?"  The  "district  board"  is  one 
of  three  "trustees"  for  the  townships,  appointed  by  the  county 
superintendent,  county  court  {judge),  and  commonwealth'' s  at- 
torney! And  who  appoints  the  "county  superintendent?"  The 
State  school  board  nominally — Dr.  Ruffner  actually,  according 
to  his  own  admission.**  And  the  county  judge?  He  is  elected 
for  a  term  of  years  by  the  Legislature.  And  the  common- 
wealth's attorney?  He  is  elected  by  the  non-tax-paying  voters 
of  his  county;  in  my  county,  elected  by  pauper  negroes.  And 
who  is  the  "county  school  board?"  These  little  office-holders, 
thus  appointed  of  the  several  townships,  with  the  county  super- 
intendent again,  constitute  the  "county  school  board."  Thus 
the  power  of  taxing  the  people,  the  most  important  function 
of  soTereignty,  is  entrusted  to  persons  with  whose  appoint- 
ment the  people  can  have  nothing  direct  to  do.  This  Is  an  out- 
rage against  the  first  principle  of  free  government:  that  repre- 
sentation must  accompany  taxation.  True,  this  county  board 
is  directed  by  law  to  report  their  proposed  levies  to  the  county 
"board  of  supervisors."  who  are  elected  by  the  people,  i.  e.,  by 
theuou-tax-payingvoters;  in  our  couniy,  b}'  the  pauper  negroes. 
But  in  this  matter  of  the  school  levies,  this  board  of  supervi- 
sors is.  to  the  school  board,  only  what  a  "///  de  justice'''  was  to 
Louis  XIV.  of  France.  It  can  hear,  register  and  enforce  their 
majesties'  edicts,  and  hound  on  the  constable  who  sells  the  last 
<:ow  of  the  white  widow  of  a  Confederate  soldier  to  play  at 
schooling  the  brats  of  negroes  who  are  stealing  out  of  the  field 
the  poor  little  crop  of  corn  she  has  tilled  with  the  hands  of  her 
fatherless  boys.  The  law  itself  is  so  worded  as  constructively 
to  enjoin  the  supervisors  to  ordain  whatever  levies  the  school 
board  demands,  provided  it  does  not  pass  the  maximum   limit.* 

*  *Va.  School  Rep..  1877.  p  15.  'The  work  and  responsibUity  are  thrown  on  him 
by  the  other  members  of  the  Board 

*See  School  Laws  codified.  §64.  4:    'It  sftaZi  ho  thedtityoi  said  Board to  levy," 

etc. 


FRET?   SCHOOLS.  271 

Why  this  outrage  on  the  principles  of  fi'ee  government? 
The  nature  of  the  UnderwDod  Constitution  is  to  make  each 
township  a  corporation  for  township  purposes.  PV/iy  did  not 
the  law  allow  the  to7vnship  corporation,  like  all  other  corpora- 
tions in  the  land,  to  elect  its  own  officers?  \\\,  the  concocters 
of  the  tyranny  did  not  mean  to  alh)w  tlie  sacred  principle,  for 
wliicli  our  fathers  fought,  to  hold  hore,  for  fear  the  citizens  in 
the  townships  should  use  their  right  of  election  to  protect  their 
property  frjm  plnnder  nnder  the  name  of  school  tax!  One 
might  have  thought  that  they  had  sufficient  guarantee  of  lav- 
ish taxation,  in  the  universal  and  the  negro  sutt'rage  prevailing 
in  the  townships,  where  the  voters  who  pay  no  property  tax 
have  the  power  of  a  majority,  to  vote  away  the  property  of  the 
minority  who  do  pay.  But  this  sweeping  and  ruthless  power, 
wicked  as  it  is,  was  not  enongh  for  the  artificers  of  our  system; 
so,  to  make  sure  that  property  shall  be  absolntely  helpless,  un- 
der the  robbery  designed,  they  also  sundered  representation 
from  taxation,  and  gave  the  taxing  ])ower,  in  township  and 
county,  to  persons  not  elected  by  the  tax  payers.  Our  system 
is  worse  than  those  of  the  Yankees,  from  whom  our  school  men 
seem  so  gi'eedy  to  borrow;  for,  while  the  major  part  of  the 
school  money  in  the  Yankee  States  usually  comes  from  the  lo- 
cal taxes,  the  rights  of  townships  and  their  citizens  in  assent- 
ing to  those  taxes  are  more  respected.  The  township  there  is  a 
little  republic,  and  exercises  the  rights  of  one;  onrs  are  in 
names,  corporations,  but  heljiless  corpses  in  fact,  under  the 
exactions  of  these  officials  with  their  foreign  api)Dintments. 

Once  more;  bad  as  the  laws  are,  I  have  the  personal  evi- 
dence, that  these  irresponsible  exactors  are  capable  of  trans- 
cending those  laws.  Tliey  actually  made  me  pay  in  Prince  Ed- 
ward county,  for  1877,  to  the  State  ten  cents  on  every  $100  for 
school  purposes.  To  the  connty  and  district  jointly  twenty 
cents  on  every  |100  of  my  real  estate  in  Prince  Edward,  and 
20  9-10  on  every  flOO  of  my  personal  property.  I  have  the 
,  county  treasurer's  receipt  for  this  lawless  plunder  (0  0-10  cents 
per  |100  more  than  the  maximnm  allowed  by  tlieir  own  tyran- 
nical laws)  in  my  desk.  It  may  be  satisfying  to  the  curious  to 
know  Inw  mnch  tax  a  conntryman  i)ays  who  has  no  municipal 
taxes  and  no  muuici])al  privileges.  On  my  little  mite  of  real 
estate:     To  the  State,  countv  and  schools.  105  cents  on  every 


2t2  ^tt.^^  sctiooJ.s. 

$100  of  value.  On  my  personal  projxM'ty  to  the  i^tatc,  coniiry 
and  school,  127  G-10  cents  on  every  |100  of  value,  besides  my 
separate  income  tax.  This  is  quite  near  enoiugh  to  confiscation, 
esipecially  on  real  estate  which  yields  the  owner  just  0  />er  cent. 
annually.  Of  course  there  is  no  redress.  Every  well  informed 
person  knows  that  this  is  just  the  kind  of  oppression  which 
John  Hampton  resisted  in  the  famous  case  of  the  ship-money, 
and  which  ultimately  cost  Charles  I.  his  head.  l>ut  the  despo- 
tism in  Virginia  is  S3  much  more  crushing  than  tliat  of  the 
absolutist  king,  that  any  man  who  made  a  stand  for  his  rights 
here  would  be  simply  laughed  at. 

Xow,  the  point  of  my  coimparison  is,  that  Georgia  is  as 
distinetlj'  committed  to  the  wrong  system  of  universal  State- 
schools  as  Virginia  is.  Yet  Georgia  can  set  up  that  system 
without  trampling,  in  this  way,  on  the  rights  of  the  people. 
The  Legislature  of  Georgia  could  at  least  avoid  that  self-evident 
enormity,  of  enabling  the  non-tax-paying  majority  to  vote  away 
the  money  of  the  paying  minority  withomt  redress  to  the  latter. 
She  did  at  least  avoid  the  wickedness  of  so  legislating,  as  that 
the  power  of  levying  and  disbursing  property-taxes  should  be 
placed  in  the  hands  of  one  class  of  the  people  who  do  not  pay; 
while  the  necessity  of  paying  taxes  is  imposed  on  a  distinct 
class — those  who  own  property.  If  this  is  not  "class-legisla- 
tion"— the  essence  of  oligarch}- — I  know  not  what  is.  Geor- 
gia, knowing  that,  with  universal  white  and  negro  suffrage, 
the  class  who  pay  no  property  tax  must  always  be  in  the  ma- 
jority, wisely  refuses  to  levy  any  property  tax  for  schools.  The 
only  general  tax  she  allows  to  be  levied  on  her  people  for  this 
eommunistic  purpose  is  a  poll-tax,  in  which  rich  and  poor  pay 
alike. 

Now,  if  we  must  have  the  Yankee  system,  why  cannot  our 
Legislature  imitate  the  wisdom  and  moderation  of  Georgia? 
Let  all  property-taxes.  State  and  local,  for  school  pui'poses,  be 
abolished.  Let  the  poll-tax  be  dedicated  to  that  use,  with  the 
proviso,  that  the  parent  must  at  least  pay  the  poll-tax,  in  or- 
der to  enter  his  children.  And,  if  this  would  not  make  a  sum 
sufficiently  splendid  for  our  enthusiasts,  let  us  imitate  Georgia 
again,  and  devote  the  liquor-tax  to  the  schools.  The  Auditor 
estimated  that  the  Moffett  law,  properly  applied,  would  yield 
|G00,000.    Is  not  that,  added  to  the  poll-tax  and  the  income  of 


FliEE   SCHOOLS.  '>7'A 

the  literary  fund,  enough  to  glut  the  rapacious  maw  of  the 
Schaol  Board?  Give  them  this;  and  we  shall  at  least  iiave 
the  consoiation  of  knowing,  that  we  are  not  plundered  to  sup- 
port a  mischievous  system,  unless  we  choose  to  commit  the 
folly  of  tippling. 

The  powers  given  these  petty  oflicials  by  our  laws  are  also 
tyrannical  in  the  matter  of  school  buildings  and  fixtures.*  These 
officers,  practically  irresponsible  to  the  people,  decide  that  any 
building  they  please  are  needed,  and  the  people  are  taxed,  "will 
they,  nill  they"  to  build  them.*  The  county  Superintendent  is 
armed  with  the  power  of  condemning  a  building,  already  paid 
for  by  the  people's  money,  and  disposing  of  it.  He  who  does 
not  see  here  openings  for  corrupt  robbery  must  be  blind  in- 
deed, I  know  that  officials  may  be  found,  who  do  not  build  or 
alienate  school-houses  for  jobbery,  and  who  endeavor  to  con- 
sult the  poverty  of  their  people.  But  the  system  is  evil,  in 
that  it  gives  the  power  to  unscrupulous  men;  in  that  it  applies 
the  temptation  to  human  nature.  And  I  know  that  abuses  do 
exist,  showing  cruel  oppression  of  our  burdened  tax-payers.  I 
know  of  a  school-house,  needlessly  built,  against  the  advice 
and  protest  of  discreet  tax-payers,  in  a  township  of  honest 
country  people  almost  bankrupted  already  by  taxes,  occupied 
by  a  pretended  scliool  one  or  two  seasons,  and  since  standing 
empty,  except  as  used,  without  authority,  for  a  tobacco  barn! 
How  immy  hundreds  of  such  cases  exist?  The  people  are  so 
tired  out  and  crushed  with  oppressions,  that  they  are  too  lan- 
guid to  protest;  and  such  doings  pass  si/3  si/en/io. 

But  now.  let  us  compare  the  cost  of  our  schools,  and  those 
of  Georgia;  a  vital  point  when  our  State  is  hovt-ring  over  in- 
solvency.t  Georgia  spends,  in  one  year,  |434,046.t  Virginia 
spends,  for  one  year,  |l,050,:U(i:  !  !  !  Georgia  is  the  undimin- 
ished Emi)ire  State  of  the  South,  wirh —  of  pop- 
ulation, and millions  of  taxable  property.  Vir- 
ginia is  shorn  of  one-third  the  dimensions  by  dismemberment 
and  claims  only millions  of  taxable  values. 

Again, §  the  total  expense  of  working  the  system  in  Geor- 
gia  is    10,300.58.    The  expense  of  working  our  system  is,  || by 

+School  Laws  codifled.  ^  40  44. 

*School  Laws  codified.  §  42  43. 

+C4eorgia  Scliool  Rep.  for  1H76.  p.  — .  p.  s.  p.  8  afrain 

i\  irginia  School  Rep   for  isr7.  p.  7.  pp.  5.  6. 

?C4eorgi;i  School  Rep.  for  is;6.  p.  — ,  p.  8  p  8  apaiu 

llVirginia  School  Rep.  for  1877.  p.  7.  pp.  5.  6.  • 


274  FREK    SCHOOLS. 

the  Supei-iiiteudem'.s  uwu  tigures,  $170,887.78.  This  includes 
aothing  for  building  school-houses;  all  this  immense  sum  goes 
Jor  salaries,  fees  and  rents,  etc.  Is  it  an}'  longer  a  surprise  to 
the  people  of  Virginia,  that  rliere  is  an  indecent  and  viciaus  re- 
sistance to  all  amendments,  on  the  part  of  this  well-pampered 
crew?  The  number  of  children  in  Georgia  (of  both  colors)  be- 
tween the  ages  of  six  and  eighteen  is  reported^, -to  be  394,0.37, 
the  number  enrolled  was  170,405,  and  the  actual  average  num- 
ber in  the  schools  was  115,121.  In  Virginia  (see  reference 
abDve)  the  number  of  both  colors  between  five  and  twenty-one 
A-ears,  was  said  to  be  482,789  (the  difference  of  88,752  in  favor 
of  Virginia  would  be  more  than  offset  by  the  children  between 
tive  and  six.  and  'between  eighteen  and  twenty-one,  not  enu- 
merated in  Georgia  I,  and  tlu'  average  actually  taught  last  year 
was  117,s4:5.  That  is  to  say:  our  Mrginia  system  teaches  but 
2.722  more  children  than  the  Georgian  system,  but  costs  our 
distressed  State  nearly  twice  and  a  half  as  much  money.  Why 
cannot  our  system  be  wrought  as  cheaply  as  the  Georgian? 
Look  at  the  enormous  salary-list  on  our  plan:*  Salary  for  State 
Superintendent;  salaries  for  his  clerks;  office  expenses  at  the 
seat  of  government;  salaries  for  a  cohort  of  county  Superin- 
tendents, at  the  tune  of  $300  for  each  of  the  first  ten  thousands 
of  souls  in  liis  county,  and  |20  f.or  each  subsequent  thousand; 
so  that  a  count}*  of  eighteen  thousand  souls  pays  for  these  few 
duties  a  salary  of  |4G0:  salaries  to  clerks  of  county  boards  and 
district  boards;  salaries  for  Treasurers,  per  diems  for  district 
trustees,  salaries  for  the  enumerators  'of  children;  so  that,  for 
(.ypi-y  ff^xix-  dollars  and  fifty  cents  which  reaches  the  teachers — 
rile  men  wlio  do  all  the  real  work — one  dollar  of  the  people's 
nicncy  is  stopped  on  the  way  t)  grease  the  palm  of  some  blat- 
ani  advocate  of  the  system,  Avho  teaches  no  child  at  all.  But, 
on  the  (leorgian  plan,  the  county  Superintendent  receives  no 
pay  but  a  small  per  diem  for  the  days  actually  devoted  to  his 
duties;  and  the  county  boards  no  pay  at  all,  except  exemption 
from  jury  and  road-services.  Why  cannot  Virginians  serve  the 
cause  of  education  as  cheaply  as  Georgians? 

Again,  the  monthly  cost  of  the  Georgian  child  for  school 

^Georgia  School  Rep.    for  1876.  p— .  p.  8.  p  8  agrain. 

*Va.  School  Rep.  1877,  p.  7.     School  Laws  codified.  §  7:i  p.  27,  p.  11.     Act  of  Assem- 
bly, March  29.  1S77. 


PR^-R  SCHOOLS.  275 

iiijj;  is  84  1-3  cents.  The  monthly  cast  of  the  Virginia  chihl  is 
|1.4(». 

Or,  let  us  take  this  view  of  the  economy  of  our  system. 
The  average  pay  of  primary  male  teachers  in  Virginia  is  |33.10 
per  month;  of  female  teachers,  |27.37  per  month.  But  private 
parti(\s  have  no  difticulty  in  employing  young-  ladies,  of  liberal 
culture,  who  actually  teach  the  higher  English  branches,  Latin, 
French  and  music  at  prices  ranging  from  |12  to  $15  per  month 
with  board.  p]very  country  housekeeper  knows  that  the  board 
of  a  young  lady  in  his  family  does  not  add  |10  per  month  to  his 
actual  expenses.  So  that  iprivate  parties  can  get  ccmipetent 
jjersons  tio  teach  the  higher  branches  for  |22,  when  the  State 
gives  127.37  for  teaching  the  plainest  rudiments.  Yet  the  boast 
was  that  the  State  would  do  the  work  so  much  inore  economi- 
cally! There  are  accomplished  ladits  now  in  Virginia  laboring 
long  hours  in  schools  unendowed  by  the  State,  at  |15()  per  year 
without  board.  Negro  fellows,  on  the  other  hand,  who  would 
think  themselves  well  paid  at  |8  iper  month  in  the  held,  and 
young  negro  women  who  would  be  satisfied  with  |5  per  month 
in  the  laundry,  are  paid  |33  and  |27  per  mouth,  while  white 
ladies  are  reduced  to  work  for  .f  12  or  |15.  No  wonder  the  sys- 
tem is  popular  with  negroes  and  olhce-holders. 

One  other  excellent  feature  o-f  the  Georgia  law  is  secured 
by  the  very  Constitution  of  the  State — Art.  \iii.  Sec.  5.  "Noth- 
ing contained  in  Sec.  1  of  this  Art.  shall  be  construed  to  de- 
prive schools  in  this  State,  not  common  schools,  fpom  participa- 
tion in  the  educational  funds  of  the  State,  as  to  all  pupils  there- 
in, taught  in  the  elementar}^  branches  of  an  Engiisli  educa- 
tion." 

The  meaning  of  this  provision  is,  that  all  schools  created 
and  regulated  by  parents  themselves,  shall  have  the  same  title 
to  a  share  in  the  school  fund  to  pay  for  instruction  in  the  Eng- 
lish rudiuu'uts  with  those  created  by  the  State,  provided  the 
teachers  of  the  former  come  under  a  few  simple  regulations  en- 
suring the  useful  performance  of  their  duties.  The  vital  ad- 
vantage of  this  is,  that  the  State  of  Georgia  restricts  and  limits 
that  iuti-iision  into  and  usurpation  of  parental  rights  and  re- 
sponsibilities within  the  narrowest  limits  permitted  by  her 
conquerors,  which  our  system  studies  to  push  to  the  most  sweep- 
ing and  enormous  extent.  The  State  of  Georgia  recognizes  the 
right  of  parents  to  say  where  a  school  is  needed,  how  it  shall 


276 


FREE  SCHOOLS. 


be  regulated.  wId  shall  be  its  readier,  what  shall  be  its  text- 
books, what  its  moral  or  religious  regimen.  The  State  of  Vir- 
ginia does  all  that  can  be  done  to  wrest  these  inalienable  rights 
and  duties  from  rlie  parents  to  whom  God  and  nature  have 
given  them,  and  vest  them  in  three  "school  trustees."  The  State 
of  Georgia  say.s  tj  parents:  "Exercise  your  rights  of  choice, 
and  the  Commonwealth  will  acquiesce  and  pay  the  portion  of 
the  fund  equitably  due  your  families,  to  the  teacher  of  your 
choice."  Tlie  State  of  Mrginia  virtually  says:  "I  claim,  like 
pagan  Sparta,  to  be  parent  of  all  children,  and  to  usurij  the 
rights  of  natural  parents  in  dictating  by  my  iftlcials.  where, 
how,  and  by  whom  your  children  shall  be  educated;  and  if  any 
parent  insist  on  his  rights  of  doing  his  own  natural  duties  to 
his  own  ottspring,  he  shall  be  punished  therefor,  by  having  his 
property  taken  from  him  to  educate  other  people's  children  in 
ways  he  did  njt  elect."    There  is  the  difference. 

The  experience  of  every  practical  man  will  teach  him  now 
conducive  this  feature  of  the  Georgia  law  is  to  flexibility,  con- 
venience and  economy.  The  parents  of  a  neighborhood  create 
a  school;  they  are  the  best  judges  where  it  should  be  situated, 
and  who  had  best  teach  it;  far  they  are  actuated  by  disinterest- 
ed love  for  the  children,  and  sound  common  sense.  They  fur- 
nish the  house  and  the  appliances.  Hence,  every  dollar  the 
State  contributes  is  apj^lied  to  the  cost  of  actual  instruction. 
The  plan  has  the  tlexibility  needed  for  a  sparse  population; 
the  wishes  of  parents,  desiring  higher  tuitian  for  their  chil- 
dren, co-operate  with  the  wishes  of  the  State  desiring  primary 
tuition  for  all;  and  public  and  private  interests  work  together 
for  the  mutual  benefit  of  the  property-class  and  the  poor. 

It  may  be  claimed,  that  a  similar  thing  is  sometimes  done 
in  Virginia.  If  it  is,  it  is  done  informally,  and  outside  the  pro- 
visions of  our  iron  system.  The  instances  speak  well,  not  for 
the  system,  but  for  the  good  sense  and  right  feeling  of  some 
of  the  officials. 

Let  us  now  proceed  to  compare  our  system  with  the  for- 
mer system  bequeathed  by  our  wise  fathers.  Before  the  war, 
it  was  Tiiuch  the  fashion  with  the  Utopians  to  bela'bor  that  .'sys- 
tem with  abuse,  as  inefficient  and  partial.  But  experience  now 
proves  that  the  I'esults  were  every  whit  as  complete  and  use- 
ful as  the  I'esults  of  our  present  oppressive  plan,  while  the  old 


FREE   SCHOOLS.  S77 

one  has  the  imsfijeakable  advantages  of  economy  and  founda- 
tion in  right  principles. 

According  to  the  report  of  William  A.  Moncure.  Second 
Auditor,  the  literary  fund  of  Virginia  accomplished  in  1858 
the  following  results:  The  number  of  schools  assisted  in  Vir- 
ginia was  3.84:7.  The  number  of  poor  children  sent  to  school 
was  54,232.  The  average  attendance  of  these  children  was  not 
quite  twelve  weeks,  or  three  months  of  school  time.  The  aver- 
age annual  cost  of  the  tuition  and  ibooks  of  each  child  was 
$2.96,  or  about  $1  per  month  for  the  time  actually  spent  in 
study.  And  the  total  cost  of  the  system  to  the  State  was  only 
f  160,530.  The  addition  made  for  the  expenses  of  administra- 
tion seems  to  have  been,  in  all,  .f  18,04:7,  if  we  rightly  infer  from 
the  Second  Auditor's*  figures.  The  whole  expenses  of  the  cen- 
tral administration  were  but  |2.750  (as  against  |5,810  in  1877), 
and  the  only  other  salaried  agent.s  were  the  county  superintend- 
ents, who  received,  what  one  of  them  calls  in  his  report,  a  "lit- 
tle pittance."  "School  commissioners."  in  all  the  counties,  per- 
formed their  duties  gratuitously,  and  were  prompt  and  proud 
to  do  so  from  philanthropy  and  patriotism.  IV/iy  cannot  this 
be  done  now?  The  Reports  from  all  the  counties,  while  recog- 
nizing defects,  and  admitting  that  the  results  were  incomplete, 
jet  infonn  the  government  of  the  general  popularity  and  pro- 
gressive utility  of  the  system.  But  now,  the  general  verdict 
which  comes  up  from  disinterested  and  intelligent  men  in  all 
quarters  is,  that  our  present  system  is  an  expensive,  mischiev- 
ous and  cruel  sham. 

Per  contra,  it  claims,  in  the  School  Keport  of  1877.  to  have 
given,  on  an  average,  four  and  a  half  months'  tuiti(m  to  117.84:5 
children,  at  an  average  monthly  cost  of  |1.43  per  month,  and 
at  a  total  cost  to  the  State  of  $1.050.:U<).  While  the  cost  of  ad- 
ministration of  the  old  system  was  but  |18,000,  the  expense  of 
working  the  new  has  been  |170,8001  If  we  regarded  the  num- 
ber of  pupils  alone,  the  old  system  did  nearly  hilf  the  tvork 
(54.2.32  children  then,  117,843  n  vw)  for  less  than  one-fifth  of  the 
rnoneyl  Look  at  that!  |178,577  then,  against  |1. 050,346  now. 
Then  Virginia  was  rich;  now  she  is  poor.  The  cost  of  adminis- 
tration was  then,  absolutely,  a  little  over  one-tenth  of  what  it 
is  no«-;  and  relatively  to  the  numbers  taught,  about  one-fourth 
of  the  present. 


278  FREE  SCHOOLS. 

An  attempt  will  be  made  to  break  the  terrible  force  of  this 
comparison  of  facts  by  reviyino;  the  complaints  which  our  Uto- 
pians used  to  utter  against  the  incompleteness  of  our  aid  sys- 
tem. The  plea  will  be  that,  if  the  system  was  cheap,  its  fruits 
were  yery  poor.  We  shall  again  hear  the  old  complaints  as 
to  the  great  irregularity  in  attendance,  the  listlessness  of  par- 
ents and  pupils,  the  scantiness  of  the  letters  actually  gained, 
etc.,  etc.,  etc.  But  the  answer  is:  First,  that  this  imperfection 
of  results,  which  was  true  of  the  old  system,  if  it  arg-ues  any- 
thing-, argues  the  folly  of  the  States  attempting  t3  cure  in  the 
popula-  masses  the  disease  of  ignorance,  indolence  and  apathy, 
by  ant  such  quantum  of  the  arts  of  letters  as  the  State  can  give 
on  any  system.  If  the  former  results  argue  anything,  they  ar- 
gue the  just  application  to  the  whole  subject  of  the  maxim, 
"One  mar  can  take  a  horse  to  water,  but  a  hundred  cannot 
make  him  drink";  they  only  show  what  we  haye  all  along 
urged — that  to  inspire  aspiration,  punctuality,  industry,  a  con- 
scientious use  of  ipriyileges  and  ac(]uirements,  is  what  the  State 
has  no  means  of  doing,  and  without  tliese,  any  appliances,  or 
any  plan,  are  wasted. 

,  But  second,  the  answer  is.  that  >ur  new  system,  with  all 
its  tyranny  and  crushing  expense,  yields  fruits  just  as  imper- 
fect. Were  the  children  of  the  indigent  then  listless  and  irregu- 
lar in  attendance?  They  are  so  still?  Was  the  tincture  of  let- 
ters then  giyen  A'ery  small?  //  is  smalhr  now.  The  old  system 
did  not  profess  to  deal  with  any  but  indigent  white  children. 
Of  these,  the  Commonwealth  then  contained  about  97,000;  and 
of  these,  54,232  were  not  only  enrolled,  but  actually  sent  to 
school.  Our  present  system  undertakes  t(»  provide  for  482,789 
ehildren  and  youths.  Of  these,  it  has  not  enrolled  even  more 
than  205,000,  and  it  only  pretends  to  have  taught,  at  all,  117,- 
843.  Talk  of  imperfect  results!  The  old  system  was  energy 
and  perfection  compared  with  this!  The  old  system  had  so  far 
overtaken  its  destined  work  as  to  give  nearly  three  months' 
schooling  to  more  than  half  the  whole  mass  of  A'outh  for  which 
it  was  designed;  while  the  new  system  has  not  enrolled  nearly 
half  of  its  appointed  mass,  and  has  not  given  any  instruction  to 
three-fourths  of  its  ai)pointed  charge.  Even  as  to  the  enrolled 
youth,  we  have  a  betrayal  of  its  inefficiency,  and  of  the  abound- 
ing listlessness  and  irregularity  of  its  beueticiaries.    The  pres- 


FEEE   SCHOOLS.  279 

ent  law  makes  the  compeusation  of  the  teachers  depend  on  the 
actual  attendance,  rather  than  the  nu'mibers  claimed  on  the 
school-rolls.  The  law  says  that  a  teacher  shall  not  be  maintain- 
ed, unless  an  actual  average  of  sixteen  daily  is  in  attendance. 
Now,  it  is  ver}'  well  known  among  the  teachers,  that,  unless 
tliej^  have  a  roll  of  not  less  than  thirty  pupils,  it  is  usually  vain 
to  hope  for  an  actual  av(M-age  attendance  of  sixteen.  Wliat 
does  this  mean?  That  on  any  average  day,  when  sixteen  are 
in  iplace  long  enough  to  be  counted,  fourteen  are  truant.  That 
tells  the  whole  tale  as  to  the  wretched  results  of  our  present 
organization.  Dr.  Ruffner's  figures  tell  the  same  miserable 
stor3\  Of  all  the  youth  of  school  age,  only  24.4  per  cent,  attend 
school  on  an  average;  and.  of  those  enrolled,  only  57  1-2  per 
cent,  attend.  (In  round  numbers,  205,0(10  are  enrolled;  11S,000 
have  attended.    Now  as  118,000  :  205,000  ::  57  1-2  :  100.) 

Here,  again,  are  the  stubborn  facts,  showing  that  the  old 
Virginian  system  was  as  much  more  efficient  as  it  was  cheaper. 
But  we  shall  see  our  Utopians,  with  their  usual  candor,  persist- 
entlj'  averting  their  eyes  from  the  facts  while  they  go  on  with 
their  baseless  boasting.  Why  will  our  authorities,  with  this 
clear  light  of  experience  before  them,  still  prefer  the  bad  sys- 
tem to  the  good?  If  they  do,  the  peo})le  will  understand  why: 
Because  the  system  is  worked  for  the  advantage  of  the  office 
holder,  and  not  of  the  State.  That  will  be  clear  to  the  people's 
common  sense. 

I  have  now  shown  our  legislators  two  plans — the  (ifeorgiau, 
and  the  old  plan  of  Virginia — both  of  which  have  been  tried, 
and  either  of  which  is  immeasurably  better  than  the  one  that 
curses  us.  This  system  of  our  fathers  had  superiority  in  its 
principles,  as  great  as  in  its  i)ractical  \\'orkiugs.  Of  these,  I 
will,  in  concluding,  present  two.  One  was,  that  the  State  gov- 
ernment left  to  ])areuts  those  powers  and  rights  which  are  theirs 
by  tlu*  laws  of  Ood  and  nature,  and  which  cannot  be  usurped 
by  a.  just,  free  government:  those  of  directing  the  rearing  of 
tli.eir  own  children,  and  choosing  its  agents  and  methods.  Clus' 
ters  of  parents  were  left  to  create  schools,  to  elect  teachers,  to 
ordain  the  instruction  and  discipline.  When  tlie  jiarents  had 
used  their  prerogatives,  then  the  State  came  in  as  a  modest  ally 
and  assistant,  and  by  providing  for  the  teaching  in  those  schools 
of  such  children  as  their  helpless  fjoverty  made  proper  wards 


280  FEEE  SCHOOLS. 

of  the  State's  charity,  helped  on  the  work  of  education,  and  sup- 
plied that  destitution  which  private  charity  did  not  reach.  There 
was  a  system  conformed  to  the  good  old  doctrine  af  our  fath- 
ers, that  "governments  are  the  servants  of  the  people."  But 
the  present  plan  proceeds  on  the  doctrine  of  despots,  that  the 
people  are  the  servants  of  the  government.  Parents  are  bidden 
to  stand  aside,  and  betray  their  rights  and  duties,  while  little 
State  officials  usurp  their  powers  of  creating  schools,  electing 
teachers,  and  ordaining  methods. 

The  other  was,  that  our  wise  fathers,  by  this  simple  plan, 
resolved  the  otherwise  insoluble  difficulty  about  the  religion  of 
the  schools,  which  is  now  involving  the  friends  of  State  educa- 
tion in  the  North  and  in  Europe,  in  inexplicable  entanglements. 
On  the  one  hand,  if  the  State  is  to  act  fairly  and  honestly  up  to 
her  pledge  to  sever  herself  from  the  Church,  she  cannot  incul- 
cate one  religion  to  the  exclusion  of  the  others.  On  the  other 
hand,  it  is  an  Atheistic  outrage  on  the  Christians,  who  compose 
the  larger  part  of  the  citizens,  to  intrude  between  them  and 
their  children,  and  then  give  them  a  godless,  which,  as  we  have 
shown,  must  be  an  ungodly  education.  We  have  again  and 
again  warned  the  advocates  of  the  Yankee  State  theory,  that 
the  entanglement  was  insoluble,  and  that  the  practical  result 
will  surely  be,  that  the  attitude  of  our  constitutions  will  en- 
able the  infidel  party  to  triumph  everywhere,  to  expel  the  Bi- 
ble and  Christianity  from  all  the  schools,  and  to  rear  us  (so  far 
as  State  schools  go)  a  generation  of  Atheists.  This  is  to  be 
the  practical  issue  of  their  misguided  zeal — the  issue  \\hicli  is, 
in  fact,  ra'pidlv  establishing  itself  in  the  Northwest  to-day. 
Now,  all  this  difficulty  was  avoided  by  our  fathers'  plan.  The 
State,  which  knows  no  church  in  preference  to  another,  did  not 
create  schools;  did  not  usurp  that  parental  function;  did  not 
elect  the  teachers;  did  not  ordain  their  discipline  or  religious 
character.  Parents  have  the  right  to  do  all  these  things  in  the 
lights  of  their  own  consciences  and  spiritual  liberty,  and  the 
parents  made  the  schools.  No  other  solution  wall  ever  be  found 
that  is  as  good.  R.  L.  DABNEY. 


LECTURE' 

COMMENDATION    OF    THE    STUDY    OF    PHILOSOPHY 


It  is  now  fashionable  with  many  advocates  of  physical 
science,  to  denounce  this  study  as  useless.  The  subject  to-night 
will  be  the  inquiry,  Is  this  so?  Or  is  it  still  true,  that  "the 
proper  study  of  mankind  is  man?"  Bur  we  must  define  what 
we  discuss.  There  is  a  tradition  that  the  old  Greek  philosopher. 
Pythagoras,  when  asked,  -ooian/r  h:  replied  ••'•  ,'"''•,  '^"oiar 
Ae   oi/JK.  "Wisdom''  here  meant,   knowledge  of  the  mental 

principles  which  regulate  all  other  knowledge.  It  was,  I  be- 
lieve, H.  Crabb.  Robinson,  who  asked  Goethe  if  he  was  read- 
ing any  philosophy;  when  he  said:  "No;  I  do  not  proipose  at 
this  time,  to  do  any  thinking  about  thinking."  This  is  a  very 
good  definition  of  philosophic  thought.  Thinking  how  the 
mind  rightly  thinks.  It  is  usually  regarded  as  including,  1. 
Psychology,  or  the  "natural  history"  of  the  human  mind.  2. 
Logic.  3.  Ethics,  or  the  principles  of  dusy  4.  Ontology,  or  the 
science  of  real  existences.  5.  Nat.  Theology:  The  inquiry  after 
the  P^rst  Causes. 

The  grounds  on  which  philosophy  is  usually  disparaged  are 
these:  First.  That  there  can  be  no  true  science,  except  it  be 
founded  throughout  on  a  basis  of  facts.  How  do  we  ascertain 
facts?  Yiy  actual  observation.  The  instruments  of  observa- 
tion are  our  senses.  But  mind  and  its  processes  are  not  obsei- 
vable  by  our  senses.  Hence,  second.  There  can  be  no  true  sci 
ence,  save  of  phenomena  (changes  in  objects  cognizable  by  our 
senses)  and  their  laivs.  Third.  The  history  of  philosophy  con- 
firms this:  they  say.  ii  has  never  had  any  certainty.  It  settles 
nothing,  but  keeps  its  doctrines  in  endless  debate.  Every  new 
age  presents  a  new  philosophy,  which  is  built  up  only  to  be  de- 
molished by  the  next  age;  whereas  physical  science  is  settled; 
it  is  "positive,"  it  establishes  its  permanent  laws,  which  thence- 

1. Public  Lecture.    University  of  Texas.  Dec.  1885.  281 


282  LECTUEE. 

forward  abide  to  bless  and  help  mankind  with  their  applicn- 
tians.  A  striking-  instance  of  this  charge  is  presented  by  Mr. 
O.  II.  Lewes,  who  writes  a  ''History  of  Philosophy''  with  the 
purpose,  as  he  says,  of  proving  that  there  is  no  philosophy.  This 
strikes  me  very  much  as  though  a  man  should  trouble  himself 
to  write  a  biography  of  Wm.  Tell,  far  the  purpose  of  proving 
there  had  never  been  any  Tell!  Mr.  Lewes  thinks  philosophy  a 
Ininibug.  Tile  man  wliu  writes  a  whole  history  of  a  huml)ug 
is  in  great  danger  of  making  his  book  a  humbug  1 

Men  are  arguing  here,  under  this  illusion,  that  it  is  tlie 
bodily  senses  alone  which  give  palpable,  solid  facts;  beguiled 
by  that  feature  of  jbtrusiveness  and  familiarity,  which  marks 
our  bodily  sensations.  Hence  their  baseless  notion,  that  ail 
doctrines  about  Mind,  that  intangible  and  invisible  thing,  are 
but  vague  speculations  af  which  there  is  no  stable  way  to  con- 
vince othei  men.  But  the  science  of  mind  is  a  science  of  ob- 
servatian.  and  is  based  on  facts,  the  most  solid  kind  of  bottom- 
facts:  The  facts  of  consciousness.  ''Ah,"  they  reph';  ''of  con- 
sciousness! Another  shadowy,  abstraction  among  faculties! 
Give  us  facts  of  eyesight!"'  Ver\'well.  Let  us  take  the  most 
familiar  and  homely  case.  Your  eyes,  nose  and  palate,  you 
think  authorize  you  solidly  to  say:  "I  see  my  breakfast." " 
But  in  saying  that,  you  have  said,  I,  Ego,  Self!  And  the  ego. 
the  self,  has  been  the  subject  of  your  proposition,  the  nomi- 
tive  to  your  verb  ''see.''  So  that  to  know  your  breakfast, 
you  must  tirst  have  known  yourself,  as  a  Mind  capable 
of  consciousness  and  thought,  believing  in  its  own 
existence  and  identity,  and  furnishing  from  its  own 
inner  powers  the  CDUception  of  space,  position,  and  the 
ather  relations  in  which  the  breakfast  is  seen  to  exist.  You 
must  have  a  knowledge  of  this  Self  in  order  to  have  a  knowl- 
edge of  your  breakfast.  You  can  only  believe  in  your  break- 
fast by  means  of  believing  in  this  self,  this  mind,  and  its  laws, 
which  shows  you  the  outer  object.  If  your  belief  in  your  mind 
is  n3t  solid,  still  les.s  can  the  belief  in  your  breakfast  be.  this 
hangs  on  that.  What  a  delusion  then,  to  say  that  your  break- 
fast is  a  fact  of  observation,  and  yet.  1  its  laws  and  jiowers.  - 
your  3  mind,  are  not!  While  shut  up  in  this  room,  you  could 
fast  is  a  fact  of  observation,  and  yet.  (1)  its  laws  and  powers. 
(2)  your,  (3)  mind,  are  not!     While  shut  up  in  this  room,  you 


LECTURE.  283 

could  only  see  one  of  those  trees,  by  looking  through  a  window. 
And  the  window  is  nearer  to  yoii  than  the  tree.  So  that  you 
cannot  know  the  tree  as  a  fact  of  observation,  ivithout  having 
first  knomn  the  window  as  a  fact  of  abservation.  So,  yon  can  never 
reason,  wirliout  liavin;i\  beforehand,  and  in  order  ti>  your  rea- 
soning, s:)me  principle  or  axiom,  7vhich  you  reason  by.  Try  it. 
You  reason,  f;)r  instance:  "Men  must  t)e  real  free  agents,  be- 
cause a  just  (jod  liolds  tlieni  responsible."  Kiglit.  But  your 
mind  saw  this  inference  to  be  right,  only  because  you  were 
guided  by  tliis  prior,  self-evident  princi'ple  that  free  agency  is 
necessary  to  my  just  responsibility.  If  your  inference  is  solid, 
the  principle  it  hangs  on  must  be  more  solid.  But  that  is  an 
abstract  principle  in  philosophy!  And  when  you  argue  with 
your  fellow  man,  you  know  that  y :>u  can  only  convince  him 
of  your  inference,  by  means  of  that  same  first  principle  regulat- 
ing his  mind  and  thought,  just  as  it  does  yours.  If  you  did 
nor  think  so,  you  would  deem  it  just  as  seusible  to  argue  Avith 
your  liDrse,  as  your  neighbor.  And  so,  all  around,  we  find  that 
our  ''facts"  of  sensation  are  only  certain  to  our  knowledge  on 
condition  we  believe  in  these  inner  ''facts"'  of  mind,  the  gen- 
eral and,  if  you  will,  abstract  principles  of  thought,  which 
regulate  the  action  of  all  faculties,  fvnn  the  olfactory,  up  to 
conscience.  You  have  had  to  philosophize,  in  spite  of  yourself, 
in  order  to  use  your  nose,  your  fingers,  and  your  eyes  and  ears. 
You  may  be  in  the  condition  of  astonishment  of  Moliere's  gen- 
tilhoome  bourgeois,  31.  Jourdain,  who,  when  his  literary  teach- 
er showed  him  the  distinction  of  i)rose  and  verse,  was  very 
much  surprised  to  find  that  he  had  been  speaking  prose  all  his 
life!  You  have  been  obliged  to  proceed,  in  all  your  knowledge, 
on  this  much  abused  philosophy,  all  along! 

It  may  be  well  just  here  to  illustrate  farther  the  fact  that 
every  man  philosophizes,  "will  he,  nill  he,"  if  he  thinks.  Here 
is  a  plain  carpenter,  who  on  ^londay  takes  up  the  Initchet  he 
had  sharpened  and  used  Saturday.  It  proved  itself  of  good 
steel,  temper  and  edge,  then.  Will  it  cut  well  this  m  )rning? 
Assuredly  it  will,  says  the  honest  man.  Bnt  may  it  not  \\\\\v 
changed  its  nature  since  Saturday,  althongh  not  meddled  with 
in  any  way?  Is  it  obliged  to  be  steel  now,  because  it  was  steel 
then;  may  it  not  now  be  of  soft  iron?  or  lead?  "No!"  he  ex- 
claims.    "That's  absurd!''     But  why  absurd,  Mr.  Carpenter? 


284  LECTUEE. 

Perhaps  lie  had  not  thought  it  out  in  full  form;  but  now  that 
you  press  him  to  do  so,  he  tells  you:  no  change  could  have 
been  made  in  the  metal  without  some  cause;  and  that  "he 
knows  by  looking  at  it,"  i.  e.,  by  its  sensible  properties,  that  ir 
is  still  steel.  That  is  all  very  plain  and  simple;  but  this  car- 
penter has  now  pDsited  three  of  the  most  profound  general 
truths  of  abstract  philosophy:  The  necessary  law  of  causa- 
tion; the  continuity  and  permanency  of  substantive  being;  and 
the  inseparable  union  of  attributes  to  their  substance.  He 
has  been  dealing  in  the  depths  of  ontology  I  He  has  even  de- 
cided the  philosophic  axiom  ou  which  the  theological  argu- 
ment for  and  against  the  sacrament  of  the  mass  turns!  Quite 
a  philosopher  he! 

A  pump-maker  brings  you  a  new  pump.  He  knows  that 
the  piston,  valves  and  air-tight  joints  are  precisely  like  those 
of  other  pumps  in  actual  use.  You  ask,  "Has  this  pump  ever 
been  tried?"  "No,  sir.""  "Then  how  do  jdu  know  it  will  draw 
any  water?"  "Oh,  sir,  it  will  be  sure  to  draw.  My  other  pumps 
made  like  it,  do."  Here  he  posits  another  prime  maxim  of 
philosophy:    "Like  causes  are  sure  to  produce  like  effects." 

Messrs.  Huxley,  Comte,  Tindal  »&  Co.  abuse  philosophy, 
r.nd  applaud  science.  I  ask  them,  can  a  scienee  be  built  up  by 
hypotheses  alone?  Oh,  no!  But  why  not?  Why  is  inductive 
demonstration  necessary?  The  answer  is  iphilosophy:  logic. 
Does  the  frequent  observation  of  a  '-post  hoc''  prove  a  'prop, 
ter  hocf'  Oh,  no:  that  is  not  valid  induction.  Why  not?  The 
answer,  again,  is  philosophy:  logic. 

Xow,  one  may  exclaim  in  surprise:  How  is  it  that  we  have 
all  been  philoso'phers  unconsciously^  and  have  spoken  ill  of  the 
philosoiphy  we  all  nevertheless  employ?  The  answer  is,  that 
the  fundamental  laws  of  thought  are  self- executive.  The  kind 
Creator  has,  fortunately  for  us,  ordained  them  so  that  they 
usually  put  themselves  in  operation  and  work  aright,  without 
our  adverting  to  them,  or  choosing  how  they  are  to  work.  Then, 
you  may  ask:  Is  not  the  study  of  them  as  unnecessary  as  theii- 
action  is  unavoidable?  I  reply:  the  case  is  much  like  that  of 
the  muscles  and  tendons  in  a  healthy  boy's  limbs.  He  does  not 
know  their  names,  number,  or  position;  but  none  the  less  kind 
nature  makes  them  obey  liis  will;  and  he  makes  as  good  a  run 
at  football,  as  the  best  anatomist.     The  studv  of  :iu:itomv  is 


LKCTtTRfi.  385 

then  uselosis?  No:  suppose  the  time  coiik's  wlieii  that  boy  has 
to  amputate  your  limb!  Anatomy  will  be  very  desirable  f^r 
him  then.  And  it  will  be  a  very  g-ood  thing  for  him  now;  to 
teach  him  prudence  in  using  that  neat  pair  of  legs  of  his,  that 
he  may  not  strain  them  the  wrong  way — ^or  put  a  force  on  them 
they  were  not  made  for. 

To  the  objection  that  pliilosophy  is  ever  changing  and  un- 
settled, and  has  established  no  fixed  principles  of  science,  I  re- 
ply by  a  denial.  Philosophy  has  established  a  good  many  prin- 
ciples,— such  as  those  named  above.  The  most  discordant 
schools  teach  them:  the  only  difference  between  them  has  been 
as  to  the  methods  of  establishing  them.  There  have  been  many 
differing  schools,  rational,  empeirical,  ideal,  pantheistic,  spir- 
itualistic, materialistic:  from  the  Academy  of  Plato  down  to 
the  "Concord  school'':  from  Pythagoras  to  Hegel.  But  there 
have  always  been  parts  of  })hilosoiphy,  which  have  remained 
fixed.  Since  Aristotle  wrate  his  Analytics,  no  philosopher  has 
successfully  disputed  the  main  doctrine  of  the  syllogism.  With 
the  great  mass  of  philosophers  the  natural  theology  of  Zeno- 
phon's  Mem.  has  continued  to  this  day,  the  true,  natural  the- 
ology. Even  in  the  most  litigated  branch  of  philosophic  psych- 
ology, the  orthodox  school  have  always  taught  a  doctrine  sub- 
stantially orthodox,  and  the  same  doctrine:  Augustine,  Aquin- 
as, Anselm  in  the  middle  ages.  If  Locke,  after  Hobbes,  taught 
a  scheme  conceding  too  much  to  sensation,  Shaftesbury  aud 
Stillingheet  in  England,  and  Leibnitz  in  (xermany,  refuted  him, 
and  taught  the  correct  scheme.  ()\('r  against  Cordillac,  the 
sensationalist,  stood  Roger  Collard.  Against  Hume  stood  Dr. 
Thomas  Keid:  against  the  Mills,  .James  and  J.  S.  stood  Ham- 
ilton. 

Were  w^e  inclined  to  retort,  we  might  ask,  whether  all  the 
parts  of  professed  (physical  science  are  stable  and  undisputed? 
Are  there  no  mutations  and  debates  there?  PJlven  the  science 
of  optics,  newly  created  by  Newton  almost  two  centuries  ago, 
is  still  uncertain  whether  her  undulatory  theory  is  true  or  not. 
Geology,  though  a  science  of  the  rocks,  still  Huctuates  in  many 
places  like  an  unsteady  sea.  Its  British  Corypheus,  Sir  Charles 
Lyell,  is  said  to  have  edited  eleven  editions  of  liis  own  master- 
piece, his  "Principles  of  Geology";  and  in  every  edition  to  have 
amended  and  contradicted  something  in  the  previous  one.   Men 


^Se  LECTURE. 

diliei-  by  hundreds  of  thousands  of  yeni's  about  tlicii-  ^hicuii 
age.  Its  stratigraphy  is  in  some  parts  conjectural.  The  sci- 
ence of  medicine,  in  many  of  its  parts,  is  so  uncertain  and  var- 
iable, as  to  provoke  tlie  gibe,  that  the  doctors  change  as  much 
in  their  fashions  as  the  ladies  do  about  their  bonnets.  In  phil- 
ology, two  theories  of  the  origin  of  language  still  contend  for 
the  mastery.  Astronomers  are  not  yet  certain  whether  the 
nebular  hypothesis  is  the  true  account  of  the  origin  of  worlds, 
or  whether  the  new  star  in  Andromeda  has  not  exploded  it  into 
a  fiction  even  thinner  than  nebular  ''star-dust."  Chemistry  still 
has  its  doubts  and  its  revolutions.  Has  it  found  out  all  the 
simple  substances?  Or  has  it  counted  too  many  of  them?  Has 
Ktpule  convinced  all  the  chemistsyetof  his  theory  of  insomor- 
pliic  compounds?  These  questions  remind  us,  that  uncertainty 
and  change  are  the  traits  of  other  sciences  besides  the  phil- 
osophic. 

It  is  often  asked,  tauntingly,  what  practical  results  has 
philosophy  yielded  for  man?  Look  what  physical  science  has 
done  to  ameliorate  man's  existence,  to  improve  his  means  of 
subsistence,  to  palliate  his  diseases!  It  has  taught  mankind  to 
subjugate  nature,  to  utilize  the  lightning,  to  bridge  mighty 
floods,  to  navigate  the  trackless  oceans.  Since  the  days  of 
Lord  Bacon,  and  under  his  guidance,  phj'sical  science  has  al- 
most made  mankind  a  new  race,  in  a  new  and  better  world. 
But  what  practical  results  does  philosophy  show?  We  will 
tell  you  anon,  how  she  rendered  an  essential  aid  in  all  these 
material  exploits.  But  we  wish,  as  we  pass  along,  to  expose 
another  large  hallucination  just  here.  First,  education  has  two 
results:  one,  the  communication  of  knowledge  of  facts;  the  oth- 
er, the  cultivation  of  the  faculties  and  moral  character.  Of 
these,  the  latter  is  far  the  more  valuable.  Even  on  the  lowest 
utilitarian  view,  it  is  better  to  have  that  culture,  which  enables 
the  mind  rapidly  to  gather  the  facts  it  may  find  useful,  than 
to  have,  toy  borrowing,  a  set  of  facts  without  the  ability  to  get 
more.  It  is  better  to  have  a  well  built  mill,  which  can  grind 
endless  quantities  of  flour  as  needed,  than  to  have  numerous 
barrels  of  flour,  with  no  machinery  to  grind  more  wlien  need- 
ed. But  farther:  knowledge  is  valuable  as  a  means:  the  man 
himself  is  the  end.  Hence,  the  culture  which  ennobles  and 
makes  the  student  more  a  man,  bears  most  directly  on  the  true 


LECTURE.  Oc^7 

end.  Uiu  the  stuily  of  pliilosoipliy,  even  if  it  left  no  kno\vle(l}:;(' 
of  useful  facts,  would  still  be  the  most  valuable;  because  it 
conduces  so  ipowerfully  to  cultivate  the  soul,  to  sharpen  the 
discrimination,  and  train  the  reason. 

The  Germans  very  happily  call  the  "practical"  lu-anches,  "the 
bread  and  butter  sciences."  They  win  the  material  means  of 
living  and  luxury.  This  commercial  age  exalts  them  for  that 
reason;  but  under  an  illusion.  No  one  will  dispute  this  truth, 
that  these  material  luxuries  are  means,  not  ends.  They  are 
not  valued  in  themselves,  as  we  value  the  friend  we  love,  but 
'because  their  consumption  ministers  to  us  some  pleasure.  The 
epicure  values  his  luxurious  dish  of  fresh  oysters,  not  as  oyst- 
ers^ — -as  such  they  ferment  and  decay — ^but  as  representing  so 
many  pulses  of  pleasure  in  his  own  consciousness,  to  be  de- 
rived from  their  consumption.  All  these  things  are  only  means 
of  happiness.  Where  is  happiness:  in  the  oysters,  or  in  the 
soul?  And  what  is  happiness?  The  beast  would  have  a  sim- 
ple answer:  In  eating  and  lying  down  to  chew  the  cud.  But 
he  who  would  not  degrade  himself  to  a  brute-level,  must  give 
the  higher  answer  of  philosophj-:  "Hapi)iness  is  virtuous  en- 
ergy-." Happiness  is  the  right,  harmonious  and  successful  ex- 
ercise of  man's  powers.  And  the  higher  the  powers  exercised, 
the  higher  the  happiness.  The  noibler  mental  activities,  tlien, 
are  as  much  more  valuable  tlian  material  good,  as  the  end  is 
more  valuable  than  the  means.  Those  activities,  those  studies 
are  happiness:  the  material  goods  are  but  means  to  happiness, 
uncertain,  partial  means;  and  the  sciences  called  practical, 
if  valued  only  for  their  ''bread  and  butter"  results,  only  means 
to  those  means. 

As  was  mentioned,  those  wlio  laud  the  plnsical  sciences 
as  the  onl}'  studies  worthy  of  pursuit,  date  their  splendid  career 
from  Bacon.  It  began,  they  say,  by  his  teaching  us  how  to  in- 
vestigate material  nature.  But  I  ask.  was  it  a  physical  science 
which  taught  that?  By  no  means.  It  was  ])liilosophyI  Ba- 
M'hich  taught  that?  By  no  means.  It  vas  philosophy.  Bacon's 
Novum.  Organum  is  solely  and  purely  a  discussion  of  a  meta- 
physical subject:  What  is  inductive  proof?  the  highest  and 
most  abstruse  branch  of  logic.  There  is  not  a  physical  prob- 
lem discussed  or  settled  in  the  whole  book,  except  one:  ''Wliat 
is  the  nature  of  calorie?"     And  that  is  introduced  solely  to 


2SS  liECtURj!. 

iilii.sri'ate  the  application  of  the  metaphysical  principle  to  phy- 
sical inquiiy.  This,  then,  is  an  illustrious  instance  of  the  truth 
that,  while  the  physical  sciences  are  the  handmaids  of  man's 
material  welfare,  they  have  to  look  to  philosophy  to  show  them 
how  to  /proceed  for  this  end.  Take  this  parable.  Let  us  sup- 
pose that  building  houses  was  truly  "the  chief  end  of  man,"  in- 
stead of  a  mere  means  for  his  comfort.  Then  the  carpenter 
would  ibe  the  true  hero.  And  his  tools  would  be  Ms  noble 
weapons.  But  without  the  ^«//  whetstont:  these  tools  would 
cease  to  cut  and  shape  the  lumber!  It  is  then  as  essential  as 
any  tool.  Thus,  philosophy  may  at  least  say,  in  the  words  of 
Horace:  Ergo  fungar  vice  cotis,  acutum  Reddere  quae  femme  valei 
exsors  ipsa  secandi. 

Nothing  can  more  strongly  illustrate  the  dependence  of 
all  other  spheres  of  thought  on  -philosophy  for  guidance  than 
this  question  touching  the  conditions  of  scientific  belief.  Will 
you  believe  what  you  cannot  understand?  Should  any  amount 
of  evidence  make  a'ou  do  so?  Sound  physical  science,  like 
sound  philosophy,  answers:  Yes.  Mystery,  even  when  incom- 
prehensible, is  no  sufficient  evidence  a  statement  may  not  be 
true.  There  is  no  department  of  truths,  not  even  the  most  fa- 
miliar, that  does  not  Include,  or  at  least  imply,  incomprehensi- 
ble propositions.  Will  3-0U  believe  what  contradicts  a  necessary 
judgment  of  the  mind,  and  fundamental  law  of  thought?  No. 
There  is  no  amount  of  evidence  sufficient  to  make  you  do  that. 
For,  3^ou  would  argue,  in  doing  that,  you  would  so  infringe  the 
very  conditions  of  rational  belief  as  to  leave  the  mind  incom- 
petent for  any  act  of  judgment.  I  cannot  surrender  these  neces- 
sary laws  of  thought,  in  order  to  believe  the  statement  which 
contradicts  them,  for  if  I  did  I  should  thereby  become  incapa- 
ble of  valid  thought,  and  so,  of  rational  belief.  My  assent  to 
truth  would  be  as  valueless  as  that  of  the  pig  grunting  his  as- 
sent to  a  mathematical  theorem.  The  derationalized  being  can- 
not believe. 

But  now,  your  assent  to  these  tw^o  questions  has  made  It 
most  imperative  for  you  to  be  prepared  with  an  answer  to  an- 
other question:  Which  are  the  fundamental  laws  of  thought? 
If  the  very  condition  of  credibility  of  the  statements  offered 
you,  the  very  possibility  of  believing  them,  is  conditioned  on 
their  not  contradicting  those  vital  rules,  you  must  be  able  to 


Sdy  li'/iu/i  ihu^e  tuies  ate.  But  tliis  question  lakes  yju  iuiu  ihe 
very  lieart  of  philosophy.  To  settle  wliat  are  the  truly  funda- 
mental  and  necessary  laws  of  thought.  To  distinguish  them 
by  sure  traits  from  other  judgments,  which  habit,  imitation  or 
prejudice  may  have  made  us  regard,  though  unwarrantably,  as 
very  essential  truths;  this  requires  the  most  thorough  explora- 
tion of  consciousness,  and  the  most  careful  speculation.  Is  this 
a  necessary  and  fundamental  judgement:  That  the  same  finite 
thing  cannot  be  at  the  same  time  in  two  places?  Or  this:  That 
a  material  substance  cannot  change  while  all  its  sensible  prop- 
erties continue  the  same?  Or  the  logical  laws  of  identity,  con- 
tradiction and  excluded  middle?  Or,  the  law  of  causation:  that 
no  new  effect  can  arise  without  adequate  cause,  and  that  like 
causes  must  always  produce  like  effects?  If  these  are  neces- 
sar}'  principles  of  thought,  you  may  reject  any  amount  of  pro- 
fessed evidence  for  a  contrary  statement,  assuring  yourselves 
that  "there  must  be  some  mistake."  If  you  confound  some  dic- 
tate of  habit  or  prejudice  with  the.se,  you  may  be  fighting 
against  the  truth.  And,  in  fact,  the  history  of  opinion  is  full 
of  just  such  confusions.  And  nothing  but  a  very  deep  phil- 
osophy can  unravel  them! 

Once  more:  Sir  Wm.  Hamilton  very  justly  asserts,  that 
philosophy  is  necessary — at  least  to  all  who  do  not  believe  the 
Brble,  to  know  whether  there  is  a  God.  Certainly  He  is  not 
audible,  visible,  or  tangible;  so  that  the  question  cannot  be  set- 
tled by  observation  with  our  senses.  We  see  very  clearly  that 
most  of  the  tilings  in  this  world  are  temporal  and  dependent 
beings;  as  the  plants,  the  trees,  the  animals,  the  humans.  Go 
back  in  time  far  enough  and  we  reach  the  date  when  they  were 
not.  We  cannot  think  they  created  themselves.  Is  it  then  a 
necessary  law  of  thought,  that  we  must  reason  back  from  the 
dependent,  to  some  independent  I>eing;  from  the  temporal  to 
the  eternal?  And  if  yes:  Is  this  etenial  Being  self-existent? 
Is  he  living;  or  as  Mr.  H.  Spencer  says:  is  it  not  a  He,  but  an  It, 
an  eternal,  blind,  physical  force?  Is  He  or  It  intelligent?  Is 
He  a  free  agent?  Has  He  a  moral  character,  and  is  that  char- 
acter bad  or  good?  All  these  are  questions  of  philosophy!  But 
they  are  the  most  practical  questions  in  the  universe.  Can  there 
be  any  prayer,  or  not?  Is  there  any  providence?  Is  there  any 
hereafter?    Is  my  dead  child  annihilated?    And  will  I  be  re- 


290  LECTURE. 

sponsible  iu  that  hereafter  for  my  conduct  here?  Can  I  enjo}^ 
any  religious  hope,  or  must  I  be  an  atheist,  '"without  God,  and 
without  hope  in  the  world?" 

The  disparagers  of  philosophy  are  fond  of  saying,  that  the 
exact  sciences  give  them  solid  f Doting  on  the  earth;  but  phil- 
osophy is  a  changing  and  fickle  "cloudland."  Let  ns  accept 
the  similitude  for  a  moment.  We  are  then  reminded  that  it  is 
from  this  cloud-land  the  most  beneficent,  and  the  most  destruc- 
tive agencies  descend,  which  bless  or  devastate  the  habitations 
of  men.  From  those  shifting  clouds  falls  the  gentle  rain,  which 
waters  the  earth  and  makes  it  bring  forth  ''bread  for  the  eater 
and  seed  for  the  sower."  Thence  also  descends  the  tornado, 
which  wrecks  the  costliest  works  of  man,  and  crushes  him  a 
mangled  worm  under  their  fragments.  Thence  leaps  down  the 
thunderbolt,  wh'ich  shivers  his  towers  and  scorches  him  with 
instant  death. 

Philosophy  is  the  cloud-land?  So  be  it.  This  metaphor 
then  reminds  us  of  the  great  practical  truth:  That  it  is  opin- 
ion, which  really  rules  the  world,  for  weal  or  woe.  And  these 
governing  opinions,  which  when  popularized,  become  the  mc:5t 
practical  guides  of  action,  and  the  most  tangible  and  concrete 
blessings  or  cur-ses  of  mankind,  have  their  source  in  the  ab- 
stract regions  of  philosophy.  The  thinker  finds  them  there, 
rightfully  or  wrongfully,  and  impelled  by  their  logic  becomes 
their  apostle,  and  in  turn  impels  the  reasons  of  the  multitude 
to  deeds  of  heavenly  beneficence  or  of  relentless  cruelty.  You 
have  all  heard  of  the  religious  persecutions  of  the  middle  ages. 
Let  me  raise  before  you  the  picture  of  one  scene,  typical  of  a 
thousand  others  as  ghastly.  It  is  about  A.  D.  1210.  His  holi- 
ness, Innocent  III.,  Pope  of  Rome,  has  proclaimed  a  crusade 
against  the  peaceful  Albigenses  in  the  South  of  France,  and 
promised  valuable  ''indulgences"  to  all  who  will  assist  to  de- 
stroy them.  The  city  of  Bezieses  in  Languedoc  is  crowded 
with  these  hapless  people,  who  have  at  last  stood  at  bay  for 
their  lives,  with  their  wives  and  children,  intermingled  with  a 
multitude  of  devout  Roman  Catholics.  Seventy  thousand  souls 
throng  the  beleaguered  town;  when  breaches  are  made  and  the 
fierce  soldiery,  inflamed  almost  to  phrensy  by  the  desperate  re- 
sistance, are  ordered  to  enter  and  put  every  soul  to  the  sword. 
The  Bishop    Arnauld  Amaieu,    is  there  as  representative  of  the 


LEOTtfRE.  291 

Pope,  to  guide  and  bless  their  efforts  in  rlie  name  of  the  ''Prince 
cf  Peace."  Even  the  executioners  asked,  by  what  sig'u  they 
shoukl  distin^uisli  heretic  from  (>;.)0(\  ("atholic,  so  as  to  spare 
the  Latter.  "Kill  them  all,"  cried  his  holiness.  "The  Lord  will 
know  his  own!''  And  all:  helpless  babes,  pious  Catholics,  as 
well  as  dissenting  Albigenses,  perished  in  one  remorseless 
slaughter. 

But  these  butchers  sup})Osed  that  they  were  only  acting  out 
their  philosophy  consistently.  Is  man  responsible  for  his  be- 
liefs on  moral  subjects,  or  not?  This  is  a  question  of  moral 
philosophy.  If  he  is,  then  ought  this  wrong  believer  {mescreant) 
to  be  punished  for  his  error?  Why  not?  It  is  wrong.  It  is  a 
responsible  wrong.  It  is  a  most  mischievous  wrong.  The  here- 
tic may  do  more  hurt  to  human  welfare,  especially  when  the 
eternal  consequences  of  soul-destroying  error  are  included, 
than  all  the  horse  thieves,  burglars,  and  freebooters  in  the 
world.  Why,  then,  should  society  hang  the  horse  thieves,  and 
allow  to  the  heretics  immunity?  Is  it  not  unequal,  unfair,  un- 
just? And  since  Rome  teaches  that  her  Poipes  are  the  God- 
appointed  depositories  of  doctrinal  infallibilit}',  and  guardians 
of  (xospel  trutli,  why  should  not  the  Pope  direct  the  sword  of 
justice?  And  why  should  we  not  deem  the  stern  severity  of 
the  execution  to  be  righteousness  and  not  cruelty,  as  we  do 
when  the  sheritf  executes  the  grim  sentence  of  the  law  on  the 
felon,  with  almost  infinite  pity  concealed  in  his  heart,  and  yet 
under  the  impulse  of  an  i\^vi\\\duty  ^  which  leaves  him  no  option? 
Plant  those  propositions  sincerely  in  the  conviction  of  these 
persecutors'  minds;  and  their  bloody  acts  are  the  consistent  re- 
sult. Now,  we  Americans  are  blindly  and  passionately  attach- 
ed to  liberty  of  thought  and  denounce  the  wickedness  of  perse- 
cution for  opinion's  sake.  I  propose  to  you  to  take  that  chain 
of  propositions  which  I  stated,  and  show  the  flaw  in  their  con- 
nection. You  find  them  apparently  an  iron  chain.  Where  will 
you  break  it?  at  which  link?  Only  philosophy  can  show  you 
how  to  break  it.  If  you  reject  her  aid,  you  stand  in  an  attitude 
more  amiable,  indeed,  than  the  persecutor;  but  in  which  your 
amiability  is  a  logical  inconsistency. 

Again:  we  have  all  heard  the  famous  maxim:  "All  men 
are  by  nature  equal.'''  There  are  two  species  of  equality.  There 
is  the  equality  of  British  freedom,  whose  watchword  is:    ''Ev- 


292  LECTURE. 

ery  Englishman  is  equal  before  the  law."  It  does  not  mean 
that  the  peasant  is  equal  to  tlie  peei-  in  the  list  of  his  particular 
franchises — these  are  very  dift'erent.  But  the  peasant  has  the 
same  right  to  his  narrower  franchises  as  the  peer  has  to  his 
wider.  The  same  law  protects  both,  on  the  same  'fundamental 
principles  of  justice.  The  maxim,  in  this  sense,  does  not  assert 
that  nature  has  made  men  literally  equal  in  strength,  in  sex, 
in  capacity  of  mind,  in  virtue,  in  fortitude,  in  health.  Hence 
it  holds  that  a  true  and  equitable  equality  must  distribute  dif- 
ferent grades  of  franchise  to  these  different  beings,  according 
to  their  capacities  to  use  them.  It  does  not  hold  that  the  child 
justly  wields  the  same  set  of  privileges  as  the  father.  It  does 
not  believe  that  the  woman  has,  for  instance,  the  same  "in- 
alienable" right  to  sing  'bass  and  wear  a  beard  with  her  hus- 
band. Eut  this  maxim,  after  leaving  Providence  to  distribute 
to  different  classes  of  mankind  the  several  allotments  of  privi- 
lege they  have  capacity  to  improve  aright,  claims  for  the  pro- 
tection of  all  the  common  sanction  of  justice  and  the  golden 
rule. 

Then,  there  is  the  equality  of  the  Jaeobin:  a  very  different 
thing,  which  teaches  that  mechanical  sameness  of  function, 
franchise  and  privilege,  in  each  detail,  is  a  right;  "inalienable," 
"natural"  and  "self-evident."  That  w'hatever  particular  fran- 
chise is  enjoyed  by  the  highest  citizen,  must  also  be  attainable 
by  the  lowest;  or  these  sacred  intuitions  are  outraged.  The 
question  between  these  is  a  question  in  philosophy:  not  a  very 
easy  one,  if  we  may  judge  'by  the  frequency  with  which  think- 
ing men  confuse  the  two  together.  Let  us  see  what  practical 
fruits  this  confusion  of  two  abstract  theories  has  borne. 

One  crop  of  those  fruits  might  have  been  seen  in  Paris  a 
century  ago.  "The  Reign  of  Terror"  was  established.  The 
guillotine  stood  before  the  Thuilleries  "<?«  permavencey  The 
gutters  ran  daily  with  blood.  The  prisons,  filled  'hy  vile  de- 
lators with  thousands  of  the  noblest  and  best,  were  emptied  by 
the  "Septembrigans,"  through  wholesale  massacre.  To  nave 
belonged  to  a  privileged  class  was  the  sufficient  crime.  To  as- 
sert the  privilege  of  any  class,  in  church  or  state,  was  treason. 
This  was  the  logical  result  of  the  philosophy. 

We  pass  over  to  America  in  1SG5,  and  we  see  the  second 
harvest  of  death  from  this  same  philosophy.     If  the  Jaeobin 


LECTURE.  5^93 

equality  is  that  which  intuition  teaches  to  be  ''inalienable," 
then  it  was  inconsistent  that  the  Africans,  thoujjh  paj^ans, 
aliens,  lately  savage,  and  utterly  unfit  to  wield  the  higher  fran- 
chise of  civic  life  without  ruining  society  and  themselves, 
should  be  '"held  to  service  or  labor"  under  other  citizens.  It  was 
iniquity  that  they  should  be  denied  any  franchise  attainable 
by  any  other  citizen.  As  this  was  "self-evident,"  and  the  equal- 
ity "inalienable,"  no  constitutions,  laws,  or  covenants  could  le- 
gitimate the  difference  between  African  and  American.  But 
they  all  became  null  and  void  in  attempting  to  do  so.  Yea,  God 
himself  was  quite  roundly  notified,  that  he  had  better  not  le- 
gitimate it,  or  he  would  be  repudiated  also!  And  when  some 
eight  millions  were  unable  to  see  this  Jacobin  logic  so,  a  quar- 
ter of  a  million  of  them  were  killed,  tlunr  homes  desolated,  and 
half  a  continent  clad  in  ruin  I  Thus  practical  is  this  science  of 
philosophy ! 

Are  these  portentous  forces  of  the  philosophic  cloud-land, 
then,  reducible  to  no  laws?  If  so.  we  must  cower  and  tremble 
before  them,  as  our  savage  forefathers,  twenty  centuries  ago, 
did  before  the  lightning  and  tempest.  The  conviction  that  their 
causes  are  beyond  our  control,  or  even  knowledge,  must  com- 
bine with  our  experience  of  their  mischiefs.  Is  this  abject  state 
the  best  that  physical  science  can  promise  to  society?  No.  As 
Matthew  Maury  reduced  the  laws  of  meteorology  to  a  science, 
hitherto  only  a  riddle  and  a  terror  to  mankind,  so  a  modest  phil- 
osophy, pursuing  the  same  humble,  diligent  method  for  ''the 
investigation  of  nature,"  teaches  to  discriminate,  to  foretell,  and 
even  to  control  the  lightnings  descending  from  the  spiritual 
world. 


THE  LABOR  UNION,  THE  STRIKE  Ai\D  THE 
COMMUNE. 


(Reproduced  aud  enlai-ged  from  the  "Texas  Review"  of  1891.) 


Labor  Fnijns  liave  been  very  obtrnsive  phenomena  in  these 
latter  jeara  of  the  nineteenth  century.  In  profession  they  are 
voluntary  societies  of  working  men  for  protecting  the  "rights 
of  hibor.'' 

Were  they  only  associations  for  protecting  the  lawful 
rights  of  laborers,  no  more  political  objection  could  lie  against 
them  than  against  (Iranger  societies,  social  clubs,  art  unions,  or 
Christian  churches  themselves.  But  their  real  and  main  de- 
sign is  far  other.  Their  avowed  purpose  and  practice  are: 
First,  to  control  the  discipline  which  employers  exercise  over 
individual  laborers,  members  of  the  union;  and  second,  to  co- 
erce the  payment  of  higher  wages  by  eniployers  to  the  laborers. 
Their  weapon  of  coercion  for  both  ends  is,  the  strike.  The  la- 
bor union  has  its  council  and  executive  head,  elected  by  the  la- 
borers from  among  themselves,  and  its  union-fund  raised  by 
monthly  or  weekly  contributions  from  their  wages.  Each  mem- 
ber is  bound  by  strict  vow  to  obey  this  council  and  clii(^f  im- 
plicitly. Here  is  the  working  of  the  machine.  Among  the  la- 
borers of  a  certain  mine  or  factory  is  A.  B.  ''A  union  man'' 
whom  his  employers  find  unpunctual.  insolent,  incompetent 
for  his  work,  or  drunken.  The  emjiloyers  protect  themselves 
by  paying  him  ott"  and  discharging  him :  the  only  possible  mode 
of  self-protection  left  them  under  the  hireling  system  of  labor. 
But  now  the  chiefs  of  the  union  interfere.  They  say  A.  B.  is  un- 
der the  protection  of  "the  union,"  therefore  the  employers  shall 
retain  him  and  pay  him  full  wages,  although  they  believe  he 
does  not  suit  them,  does  not  earn  half  his  wages  and  indeed  is 
doing  serious  and  permanent  injury  to  the  credit  of  the  firm 

■Z9i 


THE  LABOR  UNION,  THE  STRILE  AND  THE  COMMUNE.      295 

by  "scampiug"  liis  work.  If  the  employei-s  decline  to  submit, 
they  are  at  once  punished  by  a  '^strike."  Under  the  orders  of 
th-e  union-chiefs  every  labarer  is  to  leave  his  employment  at 
the  concerted  signal;  every  wheel  in  the  factory  is  to  be  stop- 
ped; all  production  is  to  be  arrested,  and  the  emjtloyers  whole 
investment  reduced  to  a  dead  capital  until  such  time  as  the 
union  chiefs  may  see  fit  for  ending  the  strike. 

Meantime  the  laborers  and  their  families,  after  eating  up 
prior  savings,  draw  a  small  pension  from  the  "uui^n  fnnd," 
which  provides  them  a  scanty  subsistence  until  such  time  as 
their  punishment  works  submission  in  the  hearts  of  their  em- 
ployers. 

Or,  if  the  issue  between  the  union  and  the  employers  is  the 
rate  of  wages,  a  similar  strike  is  relied  on  to  coerce  the  latter 
into  paying  such  wages  as  the  laborers  think  they  should  have. 
Such  is  the  the3ry  of  the  strike. 

The  moral  and  economic  objections  are  patent  and  trite. 
The  period  of  total  idleness  is  often  ruinous  to  the  habits  of 
the  men.  The  system  establishes  the  state  of  chronic  social 
warfare  between  employers  and  employed,  instead  3f  that  con- 
dition of  kindly  co-operation,  which  is  so  essential  to  happiness 
of  feeling  and  prosperity  in  the  bu.siness.  The  strike  entails  a 
fearful  destruction  of  wealth.  All  profit  on  the  plant  of  the 
employers  is  lost;  while  the  savings  of  the  laborers  are  eaten 
up,  in  unproductive  consumption,  and  their  time,  which  is  their 
money,  is  wasted  for  naught.  The  community  as  a  body  is  left 
just  so  much  the  poorer. 

Upon  this  loss  follows  another  sure  econ jmic  result,  which 
deserves  to  be  more  fully  explicated.  The  law  is  this :  When- 
ever any  hindrance  or  constriction  from  any  cause  whatsoever, 
is  applied  to  production,  the  practical  hardships  thereof  are 
shifted  over  and  delivered  down  'by  the  better  endowed  mem- 
bers of  the  community,  until  they  press  upon  that  class  owning 
no  property  except  their  labor,  which  forms  the  bottom  stra- 
tum. If  we  compare  those  hardships  to  a  load  or  weight  laid 
upon  the  top  of  a  wall,  and  the  several  strata  of  the  commun- 
ity to  the  horizontal  lines  of  stones,  we  shall  have  an  exact  il- 
lustration:  the  pressure  of  that  load  is  ultimately  delivered 
down  upon  the  bottom  stratum.  This  result  is  insured  by  a 
universal  principle  of  human  nature,  the  preference  for  one's 


296      THE  LABOR  UNION,  THE  STRIKE  AND  THE  COMMUNE. 

own  welfare  and  the  welfare  of  those  he  loves,  over  that  of 
strangers.     An  individual  instance  will  best  prove  this.     We 
will  suppose  the  head  of  a  family  a  stockholder  in  the  manu- 
factory which  is  undergoing  a  strike.    He  is  not  one  whit  more 
selfish  or  less  charitable  than  any  other  rich  man,  or  laboring 
man.    The  dividends  on  his  stock  constitute  his  family  revenue. 
By  reason  of  the  strike  those  dividends  will  drop  this  year 
from  $2,500  to  .fl,800.    He  and  his  wife  hold  a  council  npon  the 
question.  What  is  to  be  done?    They  are  prudent  people,  who 
do  not  wish  to  go  in  debt.    What  will  they  do?    Just  what  all 
other  parents  in  the  world  would  do,  viz:    They  will  so  change 
their  expenditures  as  to  live  on  the  |1,800,  while  imposing  up- 
on themselves  and  the  children  they  love  the  lightest  possible 
hardships  of  retrenchment  and  retaining  as  many  of  the  solid 
comforts  of  life  as  possible.     Their  retrenchments  will  work 
after  this  fashion.     Mother  will  say:     "Husband,  hitherto  we 
have  indulged  onr  girls  hx  having  their  finer  raiment  made  up 
by  a  dressmaker.     TIk^  girls  must  learn,  with  my  help,  to  be 
their  own  mantua-makcrs;  they  have  leisure  enough."    Father 
adds:    ''Our  eldest.  Emily,  is  now  quite  proficient  in  her  music. 
Why  can  she  not  give  the  piano  lessons  to  the  younger  girls, 
so  as  to  save  the  heavy  cost  of  the  music  teacher?"    ''Just  so," 
says  the  mother:    "And  we  can  also  dispense  with  one  of  the 
maids;  for  the  girls  can  very  well  do  the  sweeping  and  dusting 
of  the  chambers;  the  exercise  will  be  good  for  their  health." 
"And,"  adds  the  father,  "there  is  our  boy,  Tom,  who  is  now  a 
great,  strapping  fellow,  passionately  fond  of  horses.    Why  can- 
not Tom  groom  and  harness  old  Baldy  before  and  after  his 
school  hours,  so  we  can  dispense  with  a  hired  groom?" 

So  this  family  adjust  themselves  to  the  reduced  income, 
without  any  real  loss  of  comfort,  only,  they  have  to  be  some- 
what more  busy  and  have  less  time  for  idling  and  loafing,  which 
is  all  the  better  for  their  health  and  cheerfulness,  but,  "How 
does  this  retrenchment  w' ork  ?  Upon  the  under  stratum. "  This 
dressmaker,  who  thus  loses  the  custDm  of  a  large  family  is  Miss 
Bettie  Jones,  the  daughter  of  a  poor  and  sickly  old  widow, 
whom  she  must  support  along  with  herself,  by  her  needle.  On 
her  this  retrenchment  presses  as  a  real  and  probably  a  cruel 
hardship,  but  who  can  blame  this  gentleman  and  his  wife  for 
tlieir  prnc^ent  ;-i:d  Iionest  measures?     Purely,  it  would  be  still 


THE  LABOR  UNION,  THE  STRIKE  AND  THE  COMMUNE.      297 

more  cruel  in  them  [3  coiiriiiue  employing  Betsy  Jones'  needle 
and  then  fail  to  pay  her.  So  the  professional  music-  teacher 
who  loses  three  pupils  (a  fifth  or  fourth  part  of  her  income), 
is  Miss  Lucy  Hill,  a  poor  but  refined  wonum,  who  has  to  sup- 
port herself  and  a  paralytic  father  by  her  music  fees.  The  dis- 
charged house-maid  is  Biddy  Malou}-,  the  daughter  of  Mike 
Malouy,  and  one  of  a  family  of  eleven;  and  the  father  is  the 
discharged  groom,  who  had  earned  one-third  of  the  bread  and 
potatoes  for  his  family  by  caring  for  old  Baldy  and  his  stable. 
Biddy's  wages  are  now  gone  and  she  comes  back  upon  her  fath- 
er to  be  fed,  while  half  of  his  means  for  t)uying  food  are  gone. 
Here  are  four  deserving  poor  persons  who  are  hit  hard  as  a 
consefjuence  of  this  decline  in  the  stockholder's  income.  But  it 
is  the  strikers  who  are  really  responsible  for  these  cruel  blows. 

I  have  given  a  particular  instance  which  is  thoroughly  ty- 
pical. Other  cases  will  vary  endlessly  in  details;  but  the}'  will 
all  work  under  the  same  principle.  In  every  case  where  injury 
or  constriction  is  planned  against  the  resources  of  the  property 
class  the  injury  designed  for  them  will  be  mainly  evaded  and 
handed  down,  until  it  alights  ujion  the  bottom  class  beneath 
them.  Here  we  have  a  biting  illustration  of  the  folly  (a  folly 
equal  to  its  dishonesty)  of  all  the  hostilities  of  "labor  against 
capital.''  Every  blow  which  the  working  men  are  instigated  to 
aim  at  thtnr  em])loyers  must  prove  a  Ixiomerang. 

Next,  we  find  this  attempt  tD  coerce  employers  by  strikes, 
as  futile  as  mischievous.  The  pretensions  of  tlie  labor  union 
must  appear  to  the  employers  unjust,  usurping  and  even  in- 
solent: it  surely  provokes  resistance.  But  in  the  contest  thus 
begun  the  employers  have  every  advantage.  The}'  have  more 
means  saved  up  ujjon  which  to  live;  the  arrest  of  production 
means  for  them  only  the  retrenchments  we  have  described 
above;  while  for  the  laborers  it  means  destitution  and  hunger. 
So  the  employers  hold  out  longest,  and  the  union  men  have  to 
submit  after  all  this  b  )otless  loss. 

But  a  stronger  element  of  defeat  appears.  The  labor  union 
does  not  include  all  the  jtoor  men  of  the  vicinage.  Many  of 
these  need  employment  badly  and  are  only  {30  glad  to  accept 
the  wages  and  the  employment  which  the  union  men  have  just 
disdained  ana  rejected  Thus  after  a  few  days'  suspension  the 
wheels  of  the  factory  begin  to  revolve  again  with  a  new  body 


298      THE  LABOR  UNION",  THE  STRIKE  AND  THE  COMMUNE. 

of  laborers,  while  the  uuion  men  find  themselves  left  out  iu  the 
cold  permanently. 

Thus  the  strike  system  has  proved  an  utter  futility,  and 
worse,  unless  the  union  men  proceed  tu  further  measures, 
whii'h  pass  at  once  into  criminality.  These  are  always  violent 
and  illegal  atteni}»rs  to  prevent  non-union  men  from  accepting 
employment,  by  insults,  threats,  blows,  assaults,  and  even  mur- 
ders. The  union  resolves  that  their  late  employers  shall  not 
exercise  their  reasonable  and  lawful  rights  to  form  such  new 
contracts  of  labor  as  they  and  the  new  employes  see  fit  to  ap- 
prove; they  decree  that  their  fellow  citizens,  their  lawful 
equals,  while  not  union  men,  shall  not  exercise  the  inalienable 
right  of  every  free  human  being  to  work  for  a  living,  and  to 
make  such  contract  concerning  employment  and  wages  as  is 
satisfactory  to  himself.  Thus  the  uniju  men  "picket"  the  gates 
of  the  factory.  They  denounce  the  uew  laborers  as  ''scabs,"  as 
traitor's  to  the  cause  of  the  working-man.  They  make  violent 
threats.  In  extreme  cases  they  proceed  to  violent  assaults,  to 
murder,  to  arson,  to  assassination.  Thus  the  labor  union  is 
transmitted  into  a  criminal  consi)iracy.  Every  intelligent  and 
just  mind  views  these  ulteriar  measures  as  most  outrageous 
wickedness  and  despotism  wrought  under  the  pretense  of  de- 
fending the  rights  of  the  working  men.  Yet  without  these  out- 
rages their  system  effects  nothing  but  direct  injury  to  them- 
selves, as  to  all  concerned.  Obviously,  the  concession  to  their 
demands  means  the  confiscation  if  the  employers'  property, 
overthrow  of  law,  tlie  raising  of  an  aristocracy  of  rights  in  the 
union  men  as  against  their  non-union  equals  and  fellow  citi- 
zens, and  the  enthronement  of  the  uuion  in  the  room  of  the  law 
ful  commonwealth,  as  an  absolute  commune. 

The  true  lugic  of  the  strike  system  is  this:  It  is  a  forcible 
attempt  to  invade  and  dominate  the  legitimate  influence  of  the 
universal  economic  law  ;>f  supply  and  demand.  This  law  in- 
structs us  that  generally  the  relation  of  supply  to  demand  in 
any  commodity  must  regulate  its  price.  Under  this  law  all  pro 
duction  must  proceed  in  civilized  society.  It  is  under  this  law 
the  capitalist  must  produce  and  market  the  goods  brought  forth 
by  his  mine  or  his  factory.  It  is  under  this  law  the  farmer  and 
planter  must  rear  and  sell  their  crops.  Labor  is  also  a  com- 
modity as  truly  as  wheat,  or  cotton,  or  cloth.  All  though  citizens 


THE  LABOR  UNION,  THE  STRIKE  AND  THE  COMMUNE.      299 

whose  circumstances  prevent  the  successful  forniariou  of  hibor 
unions  must  also  contract  to  sell  their  labor  under  the  domin- 
ion of  this  same  law  of  demand.  If  the  supply  otfered  in  the 
market  exceeds  the  demand,  the  price  must  go  down :  the  gen- 
eral law  is  inexorable:  the  producers  of  that  commodity  must 
submit  to  receive  less  for  what  they  have  to  sell,  and  so  content 
themselves  with  smaller  profits;  or  they  must  find  means  t€ 
produce  their  commodity  more  cheaply.  Particular  circum- 
stances may  in  some  cases  suspend  the  working  of  this  law 
partially  and  tem])orarily.  But  as  a  general  law  it  is  as  preva- 
lent and  regular  as  the  law  of  gravitation  in  jihysics.  The  ad- 
vocates of  labor  unions  do  not  pretend  t:i  deny — they  expressly 
avow — that  the  purpose  and  end  of  their  system  is  to  contra- 
vene this  law  as  to  the  commodity  which  they  have  to  sell,  that 
is  a  particular  form  of  labor.  They  perceive  that  the  labor 
union  and  tlie  strike  are  expedients  from  which  the  great  ma- 
jority of  their  fellow  citizens  are  utterly  precluded  by  the  na- 
ture of  their  occupations,  and  that  is  the  very  reason  why  ike 
nnionists  value  these  (xpedients.  They  know  }»erfectly,  that  if 
all  the  other  fojrms  of  labor  in  the  commonwealth  found  it 
equally  feasible  to  protect  their  own  occujiations  from  the  law 
of  supply  and  demand  by  their  own  labor  unions  and  strikes, 
the  whole  .system  would  be  nugatory.  For  instance,  what  the 
spinners  in  a  factory  gained  by  forcing  uj)  their  wages,  would 
be  neutralized  by  what  they  would  lose  to  the  farmers  when 
they  came  to  buy  their  food;  if  the  farmers  also  could  have  a 
labor  union  which  would  force  up  the  price  of  their  crops  pro- 
portionately and  equitably. 

From  this  point  of  view  the  thoughtful  reader  sees,  that 
labor  unions  are  rather  conspiracies  against  fellow  citizens  and 
fellow  laborers,  than  against  oppressive  employers.  AYe  ob- 
serve that  these  societies  thrive  chiefly  among  operatives  in 
mines  and  factories,  among  classes  of  artisans  in  towns,  among 
printers,  among  the  eniitloyes  of  railroad  lines,  or  )f  wliarves 
or  shipj»ing.  This  is  because  circumstances  peculiar  to  their  oc- 
cupations render  their  measures  feasible  and  convenient.  Eith- 
er they  live  in  the  same  village  or  they  can  easily  meet;  there 
is  a  uniformity  in  each  industry;  their  compensation  is  imme- 
diately in  money- wages  for  labor.  But  let  us  observe  how  nu- 
merous and  vast  classes  of  meritorious  laborers  are  entirely 


300   THE  LABOR  UNION.  THE  STRIKE  AND  THE  COMMUNE. 

prevented  from  combining  successfnllv  to  force  their  wages  up 
b}'  strikes.  The  maid-servants  and  cooks  of  America,  the  hun- 
dreds and  thousands  of  schDol-ma'ams  who  teach  the  chihlren  of 
the  country  for  i)auper  wages,  the  millions  of  hired  farm  la- 
borers, the  more  numerous  millions  of  yeoman  farmers  who 
till  thciv  little  farm  with  their  own  hands,  the  still  larger  mil- 
lions of  toiling  nnthers  and  housewives  are  precluded  from 
forming  any  effective  labor  unions  by  their  dispersion  over  a 
vast  continent,  their  diversities  of  condition,  their  varieties  of 
products,  and  indirect  mode  in  which  they  receive  their  final 
compensation;  nudes  involved  in  commercial  complications 
where  the  law  of  supply  and  demand  must  inevitably  rule.  Here 
appear  at  once  the  real  purpose  and  the  iniquity  of  our  exist- 
ing system  of  labor  unions.  C.  D.  is  a  weaver  in  a  cloth  factory. 
Mj-.  E.  F.  is  an  honest  farmer  who  must  buy  a  good  deal  of  this 
cloth  to  clothe  his  family  and  himself.  One  element  of  the  cost 
of  the  cloth  to  E.  F.  is  the  wage  of  C.  D.,  the  weaver;  but  C.  D. 
has  resolved  that  E.  F.,  his  fellow  citizen  and  equal,  shall  not 
buy  that  element  in  the  value  of  the  cloth  at  that  equitable 
rate  which  should  be  generally  dictated  by  the  law  of  supply 
and  demand:  C.  D.  will  force  up  that  price  against  that  farmer 
by  the  artificial  forces  of  his  monopoly-ring,  his  threats  and  his 
strikes.  But  (\  D.  fully  expects  ta  buy  the  bread  and  meat  for 
his  family  from  tlu^  farmer,  E.  F.,  under  the  strict  operation  of 
supply  and  deuiand.  There  is  equity  and  democratic  equality 
with  a  vengeance!  But  should  any  law  or  labor  union  enable 
the  farmer  to  enhance  the  price  of  his  food-products  above  mar- 
ket rates  as  determined  by  supi)ly  and  demand,  C.  D.  would  de- 
clare himself  much  outraged.  His  labor  union  is  a  good  rule 
for  him:  but  it  must  not  "work  both  ways." 

I  have  now  brought  the  reader  to  a  point  of  view  from 
which  the  justice  of  three  practical  remarks  will  be  self-evi- 
dent. When  labor  unionists  denounce  the  great  "trusts"  of  the 
capitalists,  the  oil,  or  sugar  trust,  as  monopolies,  *'e  have  a 
curious  instance  of  inconsistency  and  insolence.  What  are  their 
societies  but  labor-monopolies?  In  every  essential  feature  they 
are  the  iniquities  which  the  trusts  are,  only  upon  a  smaller 
scale.  And  when  political  demagogues  adopt  the  cause  of  these 
labor  unions,  to  cater  for  their  votes,  under  the  pretense  of  de- 
mocracy, they  are  doing  the  most  anti-democratic  thing  possi- 


THE  liAfiOR  UNION,  T&E  STRIKE  AND  THE  COMMUNE.      8ul 

ble.  Their  cry  is:  "For  tlie  masses  against  (lie  classes!"  Vei 
thej  are  assisting-  a  narrow  class  to  i)lnnder  the  masses  of  their 
fellow  citizens. 

The  second  thing  to  be  noted  is,  the  gronndless  and  impu- 
dent claim  of  these  labor  unions  that  they  are  contending  for 
the  "rights  of  American  labor."  This  tacitly  assumes  that  the 
small  minority  of  persons  who  belong  to  labor  unions  are  the 
only  people  in  America  who  labor.  I  may  digress  for  a  mo- 
ment to  add,  that  the  same  insolent  falsehood  is  obtruded 
whenever  the  tariff  system  claims  to  be  protective  of  American 
la'bor:  as  though,  forsooth,  the  factory  hands  working  upon  pro- 
tected manufactures  were  the  only  people  who  perform  deserv- 
ing labor!  Whereas  it  has  been  perfectly  proved  a  hundred 
times  that  this  class  of  laboring  men  are  but  a  few  hundreds 
of  thousands  among  the  millions  who  labor  in  America;  that 
they  were  already  better  paid  than  the  average  of  their  breth- 
ren; and  that  this  "protection''  is  but  a  legalized  method  to  en- 
able them  to  take  something  from  the  unprotected  earnings  of 
their  fellow  citizens  without  value  received,  and  to  add  it  to 
their  own.  To  return:  there  are  a  few  hundreds  of  thousands 
of  labor  unionists  in  the  United  States.  The  census  of  1890 
shows  that  at  most  there  may  be  four  millions  of  persons  en- 
gaged in  occupations  whose  conditions  render  a  labor  union 
possible,  but  there  are  seven  and  a  half  millions  engaged  in 
the  heavier  labor  of  agriculture,  under  hotter  suns  and  freezing 
winds,  to  whom  the  arts  of  the  labor  union  are  impossible. 
They  must  produce  and  sell  their  crops  under  the  inexorable 
operation  of  the  law  of  supply  and  demand.  And  if  over  sup- 
ply or  partial  legislation  reduces  the  price  of  their  products 
below  the  cost  of  production,  these  millions  must  simply  en- 
dure it.  Methinks  if  there  could  be  any  honest  labor  union  to 
"protect  the  rights  of  American  labor,"  it  should  be  one  wdiich 
would  lift  the  wages  of  these  tillers  of  the  soil  nearer  the  level 
enjoyed  by  the  unionists. 

The  average  American  yeoman  earns  about  fifty  cents  per 
diem  with  coarse  fare  by  his  heavy  roil,  if  we  deduct  from  the 
price  of  his  farm  products  a  moderate  interest  upon  the  capital 
which  he  employs,  and  all  the  other  elements  of  the  cost  of  pro- 
duction, except  th(^  manual  laboi'.  In  the  neighboring  town, 
the  unionist  bricklayer  or  ])lasierer  scorns  to  lift  his  trowel  for 


802      THE  LABOR  TTNIOW,  THE  STRIKE  AND  THE  COMMFNfi. 

less  than  five  dollars  per  da}'.  There  are  a  thousand  farm  la 
borers  to  one  bricklayer.  Yet  this  one  tells  us  that  his  con 
spirac}^  is  for  the  protection  of  labor!  And  what  shall  we  say 
of  the  myriads  of  rural  artisans  who  cannot  form  labor  unions; 
of  the  hundreds  of  thousands  of  poor  teachers  and  school- 
ma'ams  whose  wages  are  twenty-five  dollars  per  month  with- 
out boarding,  for  four  or  five  months  of  the  year?  And  what 
of  the  twelve  millions  of  mothers  and  housewives  who  labor 
for  their  food  and  clothing  in  the  most  wearying  of  all  tasks, 
year  in  and  year  out,  not  under  an  eight  hour  rule,  you  may  be 
sure  I  but  somewhere  between  twelve  and  eighteen  and  even 
twenty  hours  out  of  the  twenty-four?  Are  all  these  not  labor- 
ers because  they  cannot  be  "knights  of  labor?"  Yet  the  direct 
effect  of  the  arts  of  the  labor  unions  is:  to  raise  the  price  of 
every  roof  which  shelters,  of  every  chimney  and  every  pound 
of  coal  which  warms,  and  of  every  yard  of  cloth  which  covers 
these  worse  paid  laborers  in  favor  of  a  small  minority  already 
overpaid  in  comparison. 

I  am  not  oblivious  of  the  plea  that  skilled  labor  is  entitled 
to  higher  remuneration.  The  assumption  is  that  all  the  forms 
of  labor  of  the  unions  are  skilled  labor;  while  the  toils  of  these 
ill-paid  masses  are  unskilled  labor.  This  is  exactly  false.  For 
instance  the  effective  farm  laborer  is  far  more  a  skilled  work- 
man than  the  bricklayer.  The  latter  has  one  dexterity  which  is 
quite  admirable:  he  strews  a  handful  of  mortar  from  his  trowel 
more  quickly,  and  he  presses  down  brick  after  briclc  with  its 
face  to  the  line,  more  deftly  than  the  plowman  could.  Very 
true.  But  that  plowman  must  be  atole  to  do  with  equal  deft- 
ness a  dozen  dilferent  things  neither  of  which  the  bricklayer  can 
do,  and  in  attempting  several  of  which  he  would  be  likely  to 
wound  himself  or  break  his  own  neck.  This  farm  laborer  must 
be  a  horse  breaker,  must  know  how  to  guide  the  plow,  to  wield 
the  hoe  so  as  to  "cut  away  the  spire  of  crab  grass"  within  half 
an  inch  of  the  tender  cotton  stalk  without  scratching  it.  He 
must  wield  the  ax,  he  must  be  a  rough  carpenter ;  he  must  be 
butcher,  knowing  how  to  dress  a  mutton  or  a  swine;  he  must 
milk  the  cow;  he  must  mount  the  dangerous  mowing  machine 
and  guide  it;  he  must  manage  the  complicated  threshing  ma- 
chine and  gin;  he  must  pick  two  hundred  and  fifty  pounds  of 
seed  cotton  per  day,  where  the  bricklayer  could  not  get  one 


TflE  LABOR  UNtoN,  THE  STRtKE  AND  THE  COMMUMR.      'SOS 

hundred.  Ir  is  the  farmer  wlio  is  the  skilled  laborer,  and  by 
that  principle  otight  to  receive  the  higher  remuneration. 

The  third  point  being  noted  is,  the  fatuity  of  the  so-called 
People's  party  in  associating  themselves  with  the  labor  union? 
in  their  present  passionate  efforts  to  right  the  wrongs  of  the 
farmers.  They  are  precisely  as  wise  as  would  be  the  shepherd 
dogs  who  should  insist  upon  enlisting  the  wolves  along  with 
themselves  to  guard  the  flock.  The  interests  of  the  Granger 
masses  and  of  the  labor  unionists  are  directly  liostile.  For  in- 
stance, here  is  the  yoeman  farmer  who  is  toiling  to  pay  off  a 
mortgage  on  his  homestead  at  a  real  wage  of  about  fift^-  cents 
per  day  (deducting  fair  compensation  for  the  employment  of 
his  capital,  teams,  implements,  etc.)  Does  he  need  a  cottage, 
a  chimney  in  it,  a  farm  wagon,  a  thresher,  a  mower,  a  buggy 
plow,  a  rotary  harrow? 

The  labor  union  men  are  compelling  him  to  pay  much  high- 
er prices  for  each  of  these  things,  by  their  conspiracies.  For, 
of  course,  all  these  contractors  and  manufacturers  add  in  the 
inflated  prices  of  the  unionist  labor,  in  addition  to  their  own 
lU'ofits.  upon  the  cost  of  every  thing  they  furnish  the  farmer. 
But  these  unionists  are  drawing  from  two  and  a  half  to  five 
dollars  per  day  for  their  work,  while  the  farmer  gets  an  half 
dollar  per  day  for  his  work.  He  must  sell  everything  his  farm 
])roduces  (the  source  out  of  which  he  at  last  gets  his  scanty 
earnings)  under  the  resistless  law  of  supply  and  demand,  while 
they  are  so  juggling  with  the  arts  of  their  conspiracy  as  to  free 
themselves  from  that  law.  Yet  we  shall  find  this  fatuous 
Granger  enraged  against  the  loan  corporation  which  lent  him 
good  money  on  his  own  terms,  at  his  earnest  entreaty,  and  fra- 
ternizing with  the  knights  of  laTior  who  are  covertly  skinning 
him! 

The  principles  of  the  labor  unions  is  virtual  Communism. 
It  is  instructive  to  watch  the  proofs  of  this  truth  presented  by 
the  development  of  the  union  system  in  Great  Britain.  The 
British  Libei-als  in  1845,  represented  by  Josei»h  IIuuu'  ami  the 
famous  Free  Trade  Society,  announced  the  laissez  nous  Jaire 
free  trade  in  commodities,  and  free  trade  in  labor,  as  tlie  very 
gospel  of  economics  and  politics.  The  first  half  of  the  doctrine 
repealed  the  protective  tariff'  of  Britain  and  placed  her  manu- 
factures and  commerce  upon  that  enlightened  basis  of  thorough 


^(H      THE  LABOR  UNION,  THE  STRIKE  ANt)  THE  COMMUNJ!. 

tree  trade,  wliicli  founded  the  new  era  of  marvelous  progress 
and  prosperity.  The  second  half  of  the  doctrine  embodied  the 
essence  of  the  Exeter  Hall  at  anti-slavery.  Free  trade  in  labor 
meant  for  Joseph  Hume  and  his  friends  that  every  laborer 
should  be  a  free  man  with  the  right  to  make  his  own  contracts 
of  labor  to  suit  himself;  but  to  make  them,  like  the  farmer,  the 
manufacturer  and  the  merchant,  under  the  common  regulation 
of  the  law  of  supply  and  demand.  Obviousljs  equity  demands 
that  if  the  principle  of  free  trade  is  to  govern  other  commodi- 
ties it  must  also  govern  labor.  For  labor  is  as  truly  a  com- 
modity to  be  bought  and  sold,  as  cloth,  or  wheat,  or  iron,  or 
sugar.  To  enforce  the  production  and  sale  of  all  the  latter  un- 
der the  free  law  of  supply  and  demand,  while  the  other  com- 
modity, labor,  is  fenced  against  that  law,  is  obvious  chiss 
legislation  and  injustice  to  others.  Hence,  the  Anti-Corn  Law 
League  hated  tariffs  and  domestic  slavery  with  a  hatred  equally 
intense  and  holy.  It  is  true,  that  under  this  free  trade  regime 
the  property  and  capital  of  I^ritain  have  made  an  enormous 
spring  and  dou'bled  themselves  in  one  generation.  It  is  also 
true  that  under  the  same  benignant  regimen  the  labor  of  the 
proletariat  gained  greatly  in  its  remuneration,  and  the  comfort 
of  its  condition.  Measured  in  gold,  the  average  of  their  wages 
has  advanced  twenty  per  cent,  since  1845;  whilst  the  purchas- 
ing power  of  this  increasing  wage  has  been  doubled  by  the  re- 
sults of  free  trade  in  commodities  and  in  labor. 

But  these  happy  consequences  do  not  at  all  satisfy  the  la- 
boring men  of  Britain  or  the  advanced  Liberals.  The  former 
have  generally  adopted,  with  passion,  the  system  of  labor  unions 
and  strikes;  the  latter  have  pushed  their  theories  through  so- 
cialism to  the  verge  of  communism.  Both  the  laborers  and  their 
theorists  now  reject  with  heat  the  dogma  of  free  trade  in  labor. 
They  declare  that  it  is  tyrannical,  cruel,  and  the  direct  road  to  a 
wage  slavery  as  degrading  and  detestable  as  African  slavery  it- 
self. They  assert  the  inherent  right  of  the  labor  unions  to  en- 
force their  demands  for  higher  wages  by  violence  if  necessary, 
notwithstanding  the  facts,  that  this  enforcement  is  a  virtual 
confiscation  of  the  personal  property  of  the  employers  at  the 
will  of  others,  in  the  form  of  this  increment  of  wage,  that  it  is 
an  infringement  of  the  right  of  non-union  men,  their  own  free 
equals,  to  work  lor  such  terms  as  suit  themselves;  and  that  the 


tHE  LABOR  UNION,  THE  STRTKK  AND  THE  COMMUME.      305 

system  organized  a  rebellious  impirium  in  imptrio  civiiaiis, 
iisurping  a  part  of  its  functions  and  forces.  The  snciali.=!r.s  ar- 
gue that  since  their  strikes  are  futilities  unless  employers  and 
non-union  men  can  be  prohibited  by  force  from  contracting 
with  each  other,  these  "scabs,"  thus  accepting  the  places  which 
the  union  men  have  rejected,  make  themselves  the  enemies  of 
labor,  and  are  therefore  the  proper  objects  of  hostility  and  co- 
ercion. They  say  there  is  this  essential  difference  between  free 
trade  in  commodities  (which  they  admit  is  all  very  well)  and 
free  trade  in  labor:  that  the  goods  bought  and  sold  under  free 
trade  are  n9n-sentient  and  feel  no  pangs  of  destitution;  but  the 
laborers  have  muscles  and  nerves  to  be  worn  by  overwork,  and 
stomachs  to  be  pinched  by  hunger,  and  hearts  to  be  wrung  by 
the  poverty  of  their  families:  therefore,  the  laborers  ought 
to  be  entitled  to  protect  their  commodity,  labor,  against  these 
consequences  of  free  trade.  This  is,  of  course,  a  very  shallow 
sophism,  since  the  goods  subjected  to  the  rigorous  law  of  sup- 
ply and  demand  are  imbued  with  the  element  of  labor,  since 
their  sale  is  the  only  medium  through  which  the  labor  involved 
in  them  can  get  its  wage  and  thus  the  price  of  the  goods  touches 
the  welfare  of  the  laborers  who  produce  them,  just  as  effec- 
tively as  the  price  of  the  labor  itself.  The  socialists  then  adopt 
in  substance,  though  perhaps  not  avowedly,  the  Malthusian 
principle  of  the  pressure  of  population  upon  the  means  of  sub- 
sistence. They  argue  thus;  let  the  capitalists  enjoy  free  trade 
in  labor,  hiring  their  operatives  at  whatever  price  the  relation 
of  supply  and  demand  may  dictate;  then  as  the  proletariat  in- 
creases in  numbers,  wages  will  go  down  until  they  reach  the 
lowest  level  of  that  wretched  subsistence  which  enables  the  la- 
borers only  to  exist,  to  be  miserable,  and  to  propagate  heirs  to 
their  misery.  Tlieir  cry  now  is,  "Down  with  free  trade  in  labor; 
up  with  the  labor  union,  the  strike,  and  the  forcible  coercion  of 
the  scab,  the  traitorous  enemy  of  his  class."  Let  the  student 
see  for  instance  this  drift  in  the  recent  work  of  ^Mr.  Benjamin 
Kid,  entitled,  "Social  Evolution." 

In  this  new  phase  and  deduction  of  Malthusianism,  there  is 
unquestionable  truth.  It  has  been  verified  a  hundred  times  in 
the  depression,  in  the  deficient  compensation  and  misery  of  free 
laborers,  in  hireling  commonwealths.  Another  admission  must 
be  made.     No  existing  commonwealth  organized  exclusively 


806      THE  LABOE  UNION,  THE  STKIKE  AND  THE  COMMUNE. 

upon  the  hireling  labor  rlien'v  has  vet  found  a  full  remedy  for 
this  de'plora'ble  tendency,  no  matter  how  liberal  or  even  demo- 
cratic its  constitution.  Sentimentalists  may  kick  against  a 
great  Malthusian  law,  may  call  it  anti<iuated,  and  maN'  vilipend 
it;  but  noiu'  tlic  less  it  remains  a  true  and  fundamental  law  of 
population.  No  permanent  release  from  its  inexorable  opera- 
tion is  found  in  any  economic  or  political  expedient.  When  the 
means  of  subsistence  increase  in  any  society,  population  alwaj's 
tends  to  increase  ^up  to  the  new  level.  Then,  if  that  new  level 
of  subsistence  be  not  farther  raised,  population  will  proceed  to 
press  upDu  it  and  overpass  it.  The  proletariat  will  accustom  it- 
.self  first  to  part  witli  its  luxuries,  and  then  to  submit  to  a  scan- 
tier supply  of  comftrts;  and  as  long  as  their  earnings  are  suffi- 
cient to  support  existence,  this  laboring  class  will  continue  to 
obey  nature's  instinct  to  increase  and  multiply.  It  is  true  that 
since  the  davs  of  the  Anti-Corn  Law  League,  the  wages  and  the 
comforts  of  the  proletariat  in  Britain  have  increased  handsome- 
ly under  free  trade.  But  the  advanced  Socialists  insist  that  this 
improvement  will  stop,  and  will  then  ebb,  as  soon  as  certain  oth- 
er foreign  and  temporar}-  agencies  cease  to  operate.  These  are 
the  wonderful  expansion  of  British  commerce  (which  yet  cannot 
expand  forever); the  opening  to  tillage  of  new  and  vast  food  pro- 
ducing areas  outside  of  Britain;  the  amazing  improvements  in 
both  land  and  ocean  transportation;  the  wide  openings  for  emi- 
gration; the  marvelous  new  applications  of  physical  science  lo 
production;  the  unbroken  prevalence  of  maritime  peace  over 
the  whole  area  of  British  commerce.  Behold  how  under  these 
new  and  temporary  agencies,  the  proletariat  population  of 
Britain  has  sprung  forward,  with  an  increase  rivaling  the  musii- 
room  growth  of  new  American  democracies,  thus  giving  us  an- 
other startling  evidence  of  the  truth  of  the  Malthusian  law. 
lUit  all  earthly  expansions  must  stop  somewhere.  A  colt  may 
grow  wonderfully  when  placed  in  a  rich,  fresh  pasture;  but  af- 
ter five  years  of  age  he  must  stop  growing,  no  matter  what  his 
pasture.  All  earthly  advancements  must  reach  their  limits. 
And  the  Socialists  assert  that  when  Britain  reaches  her  limit 
the  Malthusian  principle  combined  with  free  trade  in  labor 
will  at  once  ibegin  to  depress  the  laboring  classes  of  Britain. 
And  this  must  go  on  until  they  become  miserable  wage  slaves 


THE  LABOR  tJNION,  THK  STHTKE  AND  THE  COMMUNE.      307 

agaiu,  like  the  peasantry  of  France  and  Southern  Europe  be- 
fore the  Revolution;  of  the  Ireland  of  1840, 

It  is  not  net-essary  for  me  to  say  whether  the  wlnle  of  this 
socialist  argument  will  prove  eorreot.  My  purpose  is  to  point 
the  reader  to  the  violent  inconsistency-  into  which  it  betrays 
them.  They  have  ever  been  and  still  declare  themselves  the 
passionate  enemies  of  domestic  bondage.  X:i  language  has 
been  adequate  to  express  their  scorn  and  hatred  for  the  recent 
social  systm  of  the  Southern  I'nited  States.  No  class  of  ac- 
cusers have  done  more  by  false  accusations,  slanders,  and  vilifi- 
cation to  bring  upDU  that  fair  region  an  undeserved  and  re- 
morseless deluge  of  revolution,  war,  devastation  and  tyranny, 
than  these  advanced  socialists.  But  now,  lol  we  find  them  with 
equal  passion  asserting  a  doctrine  which  leads  directly  back  to 
a  form  of  slavery  far  more  ruthless  than  domestic  bondage 
Every  man  of  sense  knows  that  when  he  is  forbidden  by  force 
to  work  where  he  chooses,  and  for  the  wage  which  suits  himself, 
even  in  a  lawful  occupatiou,  is  no  longer  a  free  man:  he  is  a 
slave.  The  pawer  which  commands  me  where  I  shall  not  work 
is  the  same  with  the  "slave-power"  which  commands  another 
where  he  shall  work.  Again,  when  the  labor  union  has  forbid- 
den me,  a  non-union  man,  to  do  the  lawful  work  whicli  suits  me 
for  the  support  of  my  family,  I  ask  them:  "To  wh^m  then 
must  I  look  for  the  subsistence  Of  those  I  love?"  Their  answer 
is:  ''Join  the  union,  and  draw  your  weekly  pension  from  the 
community  fund,  which  will  be  issued  to  yau  so  long  as  it  lasts, 
and  you  implicitly  obey."  Here  again  I  am  enslaved;  far  worse 
enslaved  than  the  African  bondman  of  the  Sauth;  for  while 
the  labor  union  may  issue  to  me,  for  a  time,  a  pittance  which 
may  i)revent  starvation  out  of  a  scanty  fund  created  only  by  a 
tribute  taken  ^m  of  my  own  previous  wages,  the  Southern 
bondman  drew  all  the  time  his  full  subsistence,  whether  the 
business  of  the  commune  was  profitable  or  not.  And  to  the 
giving  of  tliis  livelihood  the  head  of  the  commune  was  bound, 
if  not  by  his  own  humanity,  by  public  opinion,  by  statute-law, 
and  by  a  self-interest  m^re  imperious  than  either.  And  to  fur- 
nish this  undiminished  livelihood  there  was  bound,  not  a  scanty 
fund  gathered  by  exactions  from  the  laborers'  wages,  but  the 
whole'^capital  and  profits  of  the  head  of  that  commune,  includ- 
ing the  returns  of  his  own  personal  industry.    But  this  is  only 


308      THE  LABOR  U.XION,  THE  STRIKE  AND  THE  COMMUNE. 

half  the  story.    If  the  hib  )i-  union,  that  is,  the  commune,  is  to 
have  full  authority  to  forbid  its  members  to  work,  then  it  must 
make  itself  responsible  for  the  full  subsistence  of  the  laborers 
and  their  families.    But  if  the  commune  is  responsible  for  this, 
it  must  have  authority  to  command  the  members  where  they 
shall  work  and  t3  enforce  that  command.    Without  this  power 
the  commune  could    nat   possibly  fulfill  its  pledges  to  furnish 
subsistence  to  its  subjects.     But  the  essence  of  slavery  is  the 
oblioation  of  compulsory  labor,  and  the  dependence  upon  the 
will  of  another  far  subsistence.        Communism   is   slavery.     Its 
advocates  cheat  themselves  by  explaining:    "But  the  member-, 
elect  their  own  rulers,  and  this  is  liberty."    A  very  hollow  cheat 
this,  indeed  I    Let  communism  be  established  as  a  rule  of  a  com- 
monwealth, and  this  will  be  the  real  state  of  the  case.    In  name 
the  majority  will  elect  masters  over  themselves,  and  the  unwill 
ing   minority.     But   Democracy   and   universal   suffrage   have 
taught  us  too  well  wliat  that  means.     Nominally  the  majority 
was  really  the  official  wire-pullers,  will  determine  the  choice  of 
the  masters  over  both  majority  and  minority.     vShould  this  re- 
sult not  follow  and  should  the  communistic  elections  fulfill  most 
honestly  the  most  flattering  promises  of  the  system,  still  we  • 
should  have  this  result:  that  the  minority  would  be  slaves  to  the 
majority.     And  the  major  mob  is  always  the  most  ruthless  of 
masters.    Let  us  again  make  the  vital  point  in  this  discussion 
thoroughly  salient.    The  ultra  socialist  will  attempt  to  obscure 
it  by  saying  that  in  the  best  constituted  republic  the  minority 
has  to  obey  the  majority;  and  this  is  not  slavery  for  anybody, 
but  liberty  for  all.    I  reply,  that  herein  are  two  profound  false- 
hoods.    The  first,  that  in  a  true  rei»ublie  the  minority  do  not 
obey  the  majority,     l^uf  both   obey   the  constitution.      The  princi- 
ple of  such  government  is  given  by  the  sublime  words  of  An- 
drew Melville /)^:v  Rex:     The  citizen  does  not  owe  his  allegiance 
to  the  mere  will  of  the  accidentally  major  mob,  but  to  the  sacred 
authority  of  the  constitution  wliicli  rules  the  State.    The  power 
which  this  constitution  may  have  conferred  upon  a  majority  is 
only  conventional,  deputed  and  limited.    The  clearest  majority 
may  only  exercise  that  power  within  the  limits  prescribed  for 
it  by  the  constitution,  and  when  it  exceeds  these  limits,  the 
will  of  the  majority  is  no  more  the  righteous  rule  for  the  citizen 
than  the  howling  wind.     But  the  second  and  more  essential 


THE  LABOR  UNION,  THK  STRIKE  AND  THE  COMMUNE.      809 

falsehood  is  here:  The  true  republic  does  not  legislate  at  all 
concerning  the  personal  rights,  the  preferred  occupations,  the 
compensations  therefor,  or  the  subsistence  of  their  families. 
All  these  matters  belong  to  their  individual  sovereignty  as  citi- 
zens. The  repu'blic  only  attempts  to  regulate  those  outer  rela- 
tions of  citizen  to  citizen,  which  render  them  social  beings,  un- 
der the  princii)les  of  commutative  justice.  But  the  commune 
undertakes  in  addition  to  command  me  at  what  to  work,  to  en- 
force its  command,  to  fix  my  recompense,  and  to  appoint  the 
subsistence  allotted  to  me  and  my  family.  This  invades  the 
whole  sphere  of  my  personal  sovereignty.  It  is  the  essence  of 
slavery.  Moreover,  all  history  teaches  us,  that  the  more  '*Pa- 
ternalistic''  any  government  becomes,  be  its  form  either  imper- 
ial, monarchical,  aristocratic  or  democratic,  the  more  will  its 
officials  engross  the  powers  of  the  State,  and  the  earnings  of 
the  citizens  to  themselves.  (The  experience  is  universal),  either 
by  avowed  class  legislation  or  by  unavowed  chicanery,  they  al- 
ways do  it.  The  cause  of  this  result  is  plain.  The  more  pater- 
nalistic the  government,  the  more  of  the  aggregate  wealth,  ser- 
vices and  rights  of  its  citizens  does  it  handle.  That  is  to  say, 
the  more  of  these  do  the  officials  of  this  government  handle. 
I?ut  such  masses  of  wealth  and  power  present  to  the  natural 
greed  of  men  temptations  too  strong-  to  be  Resisted.  Now  of  all 
governments  the  commune  is  most  completely  paternalistic. 
Therefore  the  officials  of  the  commune,  by  which  we  mean  the 
all-including'  commune  of  the  local  communes,  the  coaumon- 
wealth,  will  have  the  handling  of  all  the  earnings,  wealth,  ser- 
vices, and  subsistence  of  all  the  citizens.  Therefore  the  en- 
grossment of  all  these  by  the  officials  will  be  the  most  enoi- 
mous.  For  instance,  the  townshi})  institutions  of  the  Russians 
are  communistic.  The  imperial  government  is  an  absolute 
commune.  But  the  P]mperor  Nicholas  himself,  the  most  auto- 
cratic of  Czars,  declared  that  official  peculation  and  tyranny 
were  more  gigantic  in  Russia  than  anywhere  in  Europe.  Thus 
it  appears  that  communism  must  be  essential  slavery,  under 
which  the  citizens  are  the  slaves,  and  the  master  is  impersonal 
and  therefore  the  most  remorseless  and  greedy  of  all  masters. 
Now  of  all  the  things  in  the  nineteenth  century,  Southern 
bondage  was  the  one,  which  the  advanced  socialists  most  hotly 
abused.    They  condemned  the  Southern  plantation  as  the  sum 


310      THE  LABOR  UNION,  THE  STRIKE  AND  THE  COMMUNE- 

of  all  villaiuies.  But  this  plantatiou  was  virtually  the  very 
commune  which  they  desired  to  establish,  except  that  the 
Southern  had  certain  saving  differences,  which  made  it  l)etter 
than  their  proposed  form.  The  capital  of  the  i)lanrati()n  and 
the  earnings  and  services  of  all  upjn  it  composed  the  common 
fund.  The  labor  of  the  members  was  compulsory.  But  the 
common  fund  was  bound  to  them  for  the  subsistence  of  them 
and  their  families,  fully  as  comfortable  as  that  provided  b^- 
the  United  States  for  their  enlisted  soldiers,  including  housing, 
fuel,  clothing,  food,  medical  attendance,  rearing  for  their  minor 
children  and  the  pensioning  of  the  old,  w^hen  past  active  service. 
The  net  earnings  of  the  active  members,  after  subtracting  the 
cost  of  their  own  subsistence,  and  a  small  interest  upon  the 
capital  furnished  them,  went  into  the  common  fund,  to  meet 
the  last  two  drafts.  Here  was  a  small  but  true  commune.  The 
head  of  the  commune  was  not  elected  by  the  slave-members:,- 
but  was  hereditary;  and  this  was  a  great  gain,  saving  all  con- 
cern upon  the  waste  of  time,  money  and  morals,  which  al- 
ways attends  pretended  elections  in  a  paternalistic  democracy. 
But  the  grand,  saving  feature  in  this  Southern  commune  was 
that  one  which  our  socialist  most  abhors;  the  legal  establishing 
in  the  head  of  the  commune  of  a  right  of  property  in  the  in- 
voluntary labor  of  the  members.  Our  opponents  exclaim  that 
this  is  the  essence  of  slavery!  I  reply  this  is  very  true;  'but  I 
have  shown  that  their  plan  must  vest  in  the  commune  itself 
(that  is  in  its  oflQceholders)  the  power  of  control  over  the  in- 
voluntary labor  of  the  members,  and  tlie  disposal  of  their  earn- 
ings, else  the  society  must  speedily  Ite  banki-upt,  and  starve  its 
dependents.  But  this  is  giving  the  (•()niinun(\  tiiat  is  the  oflQce- 
holders, property  in  this  involuntary  labor,  except  in  this  all 
important  respect:  that  it  failed  to  enlist  any  domestic  feeling, 
or  any  self-interest  of  the  heads  in  tlu^  welfare  of  members.  In 
such  an  association  what  need  the  otticeholders  care  if  a  labor- 
ing member  dies,  or  if  the  infants  of  his  family  perish  of  destitu- 
tion, he  loses  no  property!  He  has  just  so  many  the  fewer  cares 
to  worry  him.  For  instance,  when  the  crews  of  the  patriot 
British  fleet  which  conquered  the  Invincible  Armada  at  Grave- 
lines  were  decimated  by  the  spoiled  beer,  which  their  commis- 
spries  furnished,  what  did  these  care?  Their  private  profits 
upon  their  beer  contracts  v/ere  safe  in  their  pockets.     If  many 


THE  LABOR  UNION,  THE  STRIKE  AND  THE  COMMUME.      3il 

soldiers  of  General  CliuiL'liill,  Duke  of  Marlborough,  died  iu  the 
hospitals,  this  was  but  so  much  to  his  advantage,  for  he  oouldl 
continue  their  names  upon  tlie  pay  rolls  of  the  army,  and  (juiet- 
ly  pocket  their  wages  and  allowances.  The  greater  the  suffer- 
ing and  mortality,  the  more  his  riches  grew.  When  British 
paupers  died  in  the  work-house,  under  the  late  poor  law  sys- 
tem, who  cared;  what  official,  what  tax-payer?  The  United 
States  had  a  brief  experience  in  this  line,  under  its  notorious 
Freedman's  Bureau.  We  presume  that  when  these  wards  of 
the  nation  dropped  off,  the  average  officeholder  felt  no  emotion 
but  relief.  So  now,  when  a  hireling  sickens  or  dies,  his  em- 
ployer has  lost  nothing:  he  has  but  to  hire  another  in  his  place. 
But  our  Southern  communism,  by  making  the  labor  the  master's 
property,  awoke  an  all-powerful  motive  for  taking  the  best 
care  of  it. 

If  the  laborer  died,  from  over-work  or  destitution,  so  much 
of  the  master's  property  was  totally  lost;  if  he  sickened,  its  val- 
ue was  impaired.  Hence,  the  statute  law,  which  recjuired  a 
master  to  provide  reasonable  subsistence  under  all  conditions 
of  production  however  profitless,  for  his  bondmen,  their  aged 
and  their  oflt'spring,  and  which  made  this  provision  a  first  lien, 
not  only  upon  the  annual  products  of  the  estate,  'but  upon  its 
fee  simple  value,  and  even  upon  his  personal  earnings  in  his 
separate  profession,  was  an  enforceable  law;  and  it  was  always 
enforced,  if  not  by  affection  and  self-respect,  by  all-powerful 
self-interest.  It  was  not  like  the  rules  of  ultra-democratic  so- 
cieties, which  speciously  reciuiring  all  officers  to  use  their  pow- 
ers for  the  public  g  )t)d  alone,  so  commonly  remain  a  dead  let- 
ter. Hence,  while  a  few  masters  were  tyrannical  and  stingy, 
the  bondmen  in  general  had  better  food,  clothing,  housing,  fuel, 
medical  attendance,  than  any  other  peasanti-y  in  the  world. 
While  the  employer  of  hireling  labor  pushing  forward  his  rail- 
road, his  canal,  his  malarial  farm,  his  mine,  his  chemical  works, 
cares  not  whether  the  laborers  lose  wealth  or  life  or  not,  the 
Southern  master,  in  hiring  his  bondman  to  another,  alway;s 
made  a  part  of  the  contract  that  he  should  not  be  employed  in 
any  unhealthy  occupation. 

The  late  Southern  form  of  communism  was  therefore  the 
only  one  defensible.  The  theory,  combined  with  the  other  dog- 
mas of  the  socialists,  outrages  every  fundamental  principle  of 


312      THE  LABOR  UNION,  THE  STRIKE  AND  THE  COMMUNE. 

Liuman  nature  and  of  human  actions.  It  appeals  to  tlie  preva- 
lent principle  of  self-interest  precisely'  in  the  wrang  place, 
stimulating  it  powerfully  in  the  officeholder's  selfishness,  neg- 
lect and  malversation;  while  it  loses  its  impulse  in  the  work 
of  production  for  the  general  behoof.  This  communism  ignores 
man  s  desire  for  personal  possessions,  his  right  ta  an  individual 
home,  blest  according  to  his  own  choice  in  the  use  of  those  pos- 
sessions, his  zeal  for  the  welfare  of  his  children,  his  right  to 
bequeath  to  them  the  proceeds  of  his  own  labor.  No  system 
can  endure,  which  thus  discards  the  fundamental  laws  of  na- 
ture. A  structure  built  without  a  foundation  must  tumble.  IJut 
tlie  folly  of  ideologues  and  demagogues  may  persuade  some 
discontented  and  misguided  commonwealth  to  attempt  the  gen- 
eral commune.  But  it  is  impossible  the  attempt  slnuld  conf- 
tinue.  Its  only  permanent  result  will  be  destruction,  or  enor- 
mous mischief  to  the  material  civilization,  morals  and  liai)pi- 
ness  of  the  society.  The  people  disgusted  with  the  experiment, 
will  speedily  struggle  back  to  some  political  order,  less  insane; 
usually  t3  one  more  despotic  and  less  benignant  than  that 
which  they  deserted.  Or  else,  communism  will  destroy  their 
wealth  and  civilization  and  bring  it  down  to  chronic  barbarism. 

An  authentic  incident  of  one  of  the  great  ''mining  strikes'" 
in  Pennsylvania  well  illustrates  this.  A  yeoman  farmer  waj> 
harvesting  the  products  of  his  little  orchards  and  fields,  when 
a  sturdy  loafer  demanded  a  bag  of  apples  and  potatoes,  with 
the  plea  that  he  had  neither  money  nor  provisions  for  his 
family.  ''And  who  might  you  be?"  asked  the  farmer.  "A  strik- 
ing miner,  out  of  work  for  many  weeks,  with  the  Reserve  Fund 
of  the  Union  utterly  exhausted,  and  the  strike  unadjusted." 
"'And,"  inquired  the  farmer,  "why  did  you  strike  at  first?" 
"Because  the  company,"  said  the  miner,  with  sundry  indignant 
epithets,  "refused  to  raise  our  daily  wages  from  one  and  a  half 
dollars  to  one  and  three-fourths."  "So,"  said  the  honest  far- 
mer, "I  earned  my  farm,  working  at  one-half  dollar  per  day, 
and  you  reject  work  at  three  times  that  price.  None  of  my 
apples  or  potatoes  are  for  such  as  you."  The  farmer  was  right. 
The  acts  of  the  oligarchies  are  aggravated  in  injustice  by  the 
fact  that  they  were  already  better  paid  than  the  majorityi 
ajrainst  whom  they  would  enhance  prices. 

The  svstem  also  carries  intrinsic  iniustice  to  the  capital- 


THE  LABOR  UNION,  THE  STRIKE  AND  THE  COMMUNE.      313 

ists  in  two  ways:  First,  that  it  demands  vii'tually  tlie  Hght  of 
making  both  sides  of  the  bargain  in  this  eantract  of  hibor  and 
wages.  Eaeh  party  is  entitled  to  make  his  own  side  of  the  bar- 
gain; or  if  the  otfer  made  him  from  the  other  side  does  not  suit 
him,  to  withdraw.  There  is  no  visible  limit  to  the  degree  of  this 
injustice.  Strikers  say  they  strike,  because  wages  go  below  the 
limit  of  comfortable  support.  But  what  is  a  comfortable  sup- 
'port  for  a  working  man?  If  the  strikers  are  to  decide,  it  may 
mean  Havana  cigars,  canvass-back  ducks  and  trutities,  with  Cha- 
teau Margaux  wine.  The  system  encourages  limitless  extrava- 
gance and  waste;  all  at  the  expense  of  other  peoi)le's  capital 
and  of  the  other  parts  of  the  working  public;  second,  the  capi- 
talists in  selling  the  products  of  their  factories,  have  to  sub- 
mit ta  the  great  law  of  supply  and  demand.  But  the  laborers,  in 
selling  their  labor  to  the  capitalists,  insist  on  evading  that  law. 
There  is  no  equity  there. 

As  to  the  rights  of  public  order  and  of  other  la'borers,  the 
system  tends  constantly  and  violently  to  pass  from  a  method  ol 
mutual  'protection,  into  a  criminal  conspiracy.  The  sole  ob- 
ject of  a  threatened  strike  is  to  compel  employers  to  pay  prices 
for  labor  in  advance  of  these  indicated  by  supply  and  demand. 
If  the  supply  were  not  full,  demand  alone  would  raise  the  price 
of  labor,  and  the  strike  would  be  superfluous.  Now,  the  strik- 
ers, as  free  men,  have  an  undoubted  right  to  decline  work  and 
wages  they  think  unfair.  They  may  be  very  unwise  in  declin- 
ing; but  it  is  their  right.  And  here  their  right  ends.  But  if  the 
policy  stops  there,  the  employers  will  naturally  defend  them- 
selves from  this  coercion,  by  going  into  the  labor  market  and 
hiring  at  the  market  price  that  substituted  help  which  the  full 
supply  offers.  Thus,  if  the  strike  stops  where  the  lawful  rights 
of  the  strikers  end,  it  is  inevitably  futile.  Of  course  then  it  will 
not  stop  there.  They  will  go  farther  to  violate  the  rights  of  oth- 
ers, who  have  an  indefeasible  right  to  take  up  any  lawful  work 
and  wages  they  choose.  Strikers  will  go  to  attack  this  right, 
by  "boycotting,"  by  obloquy,  by  threats,  by  terrorism,  by  vio- 
lence, by  murder.  And  when  dynamite  is  introduced  to  punish 
with  death  innocent  persons,  happening  to  use  the  appliances  of 
obnoxious  employers,  the  crime  is  worthy  only  of  devils.  Tk) 
sum  up:  If  the  equal  rights  of  other  laborers  to  accept  the 
work  and  wages  rejected  are  respected;  strikes  are  futile.    If 


ni4      'JHE  LABOR  UNION    TIIP]  STRIKE  AND  THE  COMMUNE. 

those  rights  are  obstructed  bj'  force,  strikes  are  criminal  con- 
spiracies. And  our  point  is  that  the  hitter  is  their  logical  ten- 
dency. Unfortunately,  the  frequency  of  these  outrages  as  the 
sequels  of  strikes,  fully  confirms  the  charge.  In  fine,  only  three 
modes  are  possible  for  adjusting  the  wages  of  labor  and  interest 
of  capital.  One  is  to  leave  the  adjustment,  under  equitaible 
laws,  which  shall  hold  laborer  and  property-holder  equals,  to 
the  great  law  of  sujtply  and  demand.  The  second  is,  to  liaA'e  the 
Government  fix  maximum  and  minimum  prices  by  statute.  The 
Third  is  to  leave  these  combination  of  laborers  and  employers 
against  each  other.  For,  if  the  one  combine,  of  course  the  oth- 
ers will.  The  second  plan  is  mischievous  despotism.  See  its 
working  in  the  French  Revolutions.  The  third  splits  society 
into  warring  factions,  and  tends  to  baii)arism. 

Such  is  an  impartial  estimate  of  the  tendencies  of  the 
"Trades  Unions."  The  gravity  of  the  prospect  is  increased,' 
when  we  consider  the  passionate  determination  of  their  mem- 
bers. They  seem  more  and  more  in  love  with  their  plans  and 
cherish  them  as  their  final  and  comj)lete  hope.  We  are  told 
that  the  movement  spreads  continually.  It  has  its  propagand- 
ists and  newspapers.  It  confederates  the  different  branches  of 
mechanical  labor  more  and  more  widely.  It  aspires  to  hold 
the  balance  of  power  in  elections,  and  will  before  long,  claim  to 
control  legislatures  and  congresses. 

Will  primary  education  be  its  antidote?  The  negative  to 
this  hope  seems  to  be  pronounced  b}'  the  fact,  that,  thus  far, 
these  projects  have  grown  just  as  primary  education  has  extend 
ed,  and  precisely  in  the  places  which  most  rejoice  in  its  mean^. 
The  same  discouragement  follows  from  observing  the  species  of 
development  produced — an  initial  grade  of  knowledge  and  intel- 
ligence, just  adequate  to  the  suggestion  of  a  number  of  unsatis- 
fied desires,  and  the  adojotion  of  the  shallow  plausibilities  of 
sophistical  theories  for  their  gratification;  while  the  breadth  of 
wisdom  needed  to  show  the  hollowness  of  them  has  not  been 
attained;  and  this  dangerous  Sciolism  is  aggravated  by  the  selt- 
sufiiciency  inspired  by  a  conceit  of  culture.  This  primary 
education  exactly  prepares  a  population  for  the  reading  and  ac- 
ceptance of  superficial  newspapers.  Without  the  circulation  of 
newspapers,  there  would  be  no  "Trades  Unions"  and  no  strikes 
of  any  moment.    The  primary-  school  and  the  newspaper  press 


THE  LABOR  UNION,  THE  STRIKE  AND  THE  COMMUNE.      815 

play  into  each  others  hands  in  assisting  tliese  dangcn-ous  organ- 
izations. In  hnnian  hand.s  all  the  best  things  are  perverted  to 
some  miscliievous  nses,  and  here  we  have  the  ])er versions  of 
these  two  good  things,  the  School  and  the  l*ress.  The  primary 
school  enables  the  youth  to  read.  Poor  human  nature  usually 
craves  the  less  wholesome  pabulum  for  its  powers,  and  here, 
the  superficially  cultivated  reader  uses  his  little  talent  to  read 
the  newspaper,  instead  of  his  Bible.  The  demagogue,  the  de- 
signing agitator  sees  at  once  in  the  newspaper  an  engine  for 
swaying  just  such  minds,  and  he  makes  erne  low,  sophistic;a'l 
and  shallow  enough  to  suit  his  audience.  Thus  the  country 
has  its  literature  of  ''Strikes,"  Communism.  Confiscation  and 
l\vnamite,  with  myriads  of  readers. 

The  more  rapid  progress  of  the  late  Confederate  States,  in 
the  creation  and  accumulation  of  wealth,  as  demonstrated  by 
the  successive  census  returns  of  1840,  1850  and  1860,  was  ac- 
counted for,  in  part,  by  the  absence  of  strikes.  The  Negro  la- 
borers could  not  combine;  the  white  found  no  motive  to  do  so. 
Thus  far  the  emancipated  Negroes  have  not  formed  this  species 
of  Trades'  Unions  by  the  race  lines.  But  the  Southern  people 
are  now  magnanimously  giving  them  a  universal  common 
school  education.  The  result  will  be.  as  sure  as  the  cycle  of  the 
seasons,  that  before  long  they  will  also  form  their  own  "trades' 
unions"  on  the  ''color  line."  They  will  form  them,  because  their 
partial  culture  will  exactly  prepare  them  for  their  sophisms 
and  attractions;  because  they  have  already  shown  a  marked  ten- 
dency toward  co-operative  associations,  and  a  i)assionate  fond- 
ness for  them;  because,  as  now  free  laborers,  they  must  feel 
the  siimuli  to  that  course,  now  almost  omnipotently  felt  by 
white  artisans  among  us.  They  will  form  them  on  the  "color 
line,"  if  for  no  other  reason,  because  the  whites  have  already 
applied  that  line  everywhere  in  their  trades'  unions,  and  that 
with  a  passionate  vigor. 

One  of  the  future  problems  and  perils  of  the  couiilry 
is  this  race  contest.  Where  the  industrial  centers  have  a  mil- 
lion of  Negroes,  educated  up  to  the  use  of  the  stump-speech,  the 
radical  newspaper  and  the  revolver,  closely  organized  in  trades' 
unions,  then  the  peace  of  the  country  will  hang  in  constant  sus- 
pense. 

Two  antidotes  have  been  proposed  for  the  poisons  involved 


816      THE  LABOR  UNION,  THE  STRIKE  AND  THE  COMMUNE 

in  these  unions.  One  is,  tlie  application  of  the  co-operativic* 
plan,  wliich  has  been  so  successfully  applied  in  England  in  the 
^'ork  of  "distribution,"  to  the  industries  of  production?  In 
retail  distributit)n,  the  Kachdale  plan  has,  indeed,  wrought 
wonders,  at  least  in  England.  It  is  still  to  be  seen  whether  the 
system  can  be  made  to  work  among  Americans,  with  their  eager 
and  intense  individuality. 

But  there  appears,  on  reflection,  a  fatal  difficulty  when  we 
attempt  to  apply  it  to  industries  of  production.  It  proposes  to 
identify  the  relations  and  interests  of  the  employers  and  the  la- 
borers. It  says,  these  shall  be  as  truly  stockholders  in  the  joint 
concern,  and  capitalists,  as  those.  But,  unfortunately,  the  dif- 
ference between  employers  and  laborers,  between  the  property- 
class  and  the  property-less  class,  has  arisen  out  of  natural  and 
acquired  differences  of  personal  attribute,  for  changing  which 
the  meth3ds  of  co-operation  are  as  weak  as  "the  Pope's  l>ull 
against  the  comet."  In  a  country  like  this,  where  the  laws  are 
already  equal,  the  whole  difference  between  those  who  have 
property,  and  those  who  have  not,  has  been  made  by  the  pres- 
ence, or  lack  of  "talents  of  acquisition''  in  themselves  or  their 
parents.  The  well-to-do  families  are  so,  because  their  working 
mem'bers  have  energy,  skill,  prudent  foresight,  self-denial  as 
also,  perhaps,  selfishness.  Especially  does  the  creation  of 
"saved-up  capital,"  the  feature  which  makes  the  man  an  em- 
ployer instead  of  an  employe,  depend  on  self-denial.  The  com- 
mon proverb  says:  "Kiches  come  more  by  saving  than  by  mak- 
ing." Political  economy  teaches  the  same;  showing  us  that  each 
man's  saved-uj)  ca})ital  represents  exactly  so  much  self-denial, 
either  in  him  or  his  forefathers,  in  reserving  present  income 
from  the  indulgence  of  present  desires,  for  the  distant  and  re- 
mote uses  of  capital  in  the  future. 

Again,  sagacity  in  applying,  in  investing,  in  u.sing  the 
previous  savings,  is  more  important  than  either  rapid  skill  in 
earning,  or  self-denial  in  not  spending.  Here  is  your  rapid,  effec- 
tive worker,  who  does  earn  large  wages.  Neither  does  he  eat 
them  up  in  immediate  indulgencies.  His  mind  is  keenly  bent 
on  accumulation.  But  somehow,  his  money  is  ever  "put  into 
bags  with  holes."  His  ventures  in  investment  are  ill  chosen 
and  unlucky.  He  has  an  infinite  amount  of  mental  activities 
about  plans  and  investments,  but  he  ever  lacks  that  "mother- 


THE  LABOR  UNION,  THE  STRILE  AND  TITR  COMMUNE.      817 

wif,"  that  sagacious  insight,  which  is  a  natural  gift.  And  this 
picture  is  seen,  in  this  countrv,  more  frequently  than  tlie  in- 
stances of  poverty  from  sheer  indolence. 

Now,  if  the  industry  is  to  be  truly  co-operative — if  the 
smaller  shareholders  are  not  to  be  deprived  of  their  votes  in  it, 
and  directed  both  in  their  labors  and  the  use  of  their  earnings, 
by  the  will  of  the  large  capitalist  in  the  concern — which  means, 
simply  their  slavery — these  votes  which  represent  rashness,  un- 
thrift,  self-indulgence,  imprudence,  must  be  equivalent  with  the 
votes  of  the  sagacious — ^of  course,  then,  "the  concern''  must 
come  to  grief.  This  directive  will,  which  represents  the  aggre- 
gation of  all  the  unwise  who  have  remained  among  the  small, 
or  laboring  shareholders,  simply  because  they  are  unwise,  can- 
not compete  with  the  rival  concern,  which  is  directed  by  the 
best  practical  wisdom.  The  co-operative  factory  will  be  a  fail- 
ure; and  the  association  will  dissolve  in  disgust  of  mind,  where 
the  factory  of  the  successful  capitalist  will  succeed.  The  resolve 
that  the  present  plan  shall  be  replaced  by  co-operative  factories, 
which  shall  succeed,  amounts  simply  to  this:  ''Resolved,  that 
all  laborers  have  the  personal  attributes  of  a  Peter  Cooijer!" 
Nature  and  Providence  concur  to  make  men  unequal;  they  can- 
not be  made  equal  bj-  the  ''resolutions"  of  theorists. 

Once  more:  however  co-operative,  a  factory  must  have  exe- 
cutive officers,  directors,  salesmen,  treasurers.  These  must 
handle  all  its  earnings  and  assets.  Supposing  the  system  to  re- 
ceive the  wide  extension  necessary  for  its  healing  fully  the  rela- 
tions of  labor  and  capital,  shall  we  find  enough  Iwnest  laboring 
men  in  America  to  fill  all  these  responsible  places?  Or  would 
80  large  a  portion  of  the  ventures  break  down  through  defalca- 
tions of  officials,  as  to  spoil  the  experiment?  The  morals  of  the 
strike  system  do  not  seem  very  well  adapted  to  breed  strict  hon- 
esty! 

The  other  .proposal  is,  that  the  quarrels  of  labor  and  capi- 
tal shall  be  prevented,  by  making  the  National  Government  it- 
self the  general  industrial  manager.  The  Democratic  theory  is, 
that  the  Government  reflects  the  combined  will  of  all  the  peo- 
ple. This,  then,  is  the  right  agency  to  direct  industrial  pur- 
suits.   Let  the  Government  'be  in  place  of  the  corporations  and 

capitalists. 

Here  several  plain  thoughts  give  us  pause: 


318      THE  LABOR  UNION,  THE  STRIKE  AND  THE  COMMUN-E. 

First.  If  this  plan  will  be  g03d,  it  will  be  because  the  Gov- 
ernment direction  ^ill  be  better  than  that  of  the  corporation  or 
personal  will.  If,  then,  the  Government  is  to  confer  this  ad- 
vantage on  some  Industries,  it  must  confer  it  on  all.  Otherwise 
we  shall  introduce  inequalities  and  favoritisms  most  odious  to 
Democratic  theory.  If  it  undertakes  to  operate  all  industries, 
it  becomes  a  worse  than  Chinese  despotism,  a  machine  so  vast 
as  to  crush  out  all  individuality,  and  to  break  down  hopelessly 
by  its  own  weight. 

Second.  The  success  of  the  Government's  management  in 
all  these  industries  must  depend  supremely  on  the  competency 
and  honesty  of  the  Government's  officials.  They  must  consti- 
tute an  immense  host.  Personal  motives  to  zeal  and  fidelity 
will  be  largely  annihilated.  Is  there  enough  of  this  high  in- 
tegrity in  America,  to  work  the  huge  machine?  The  present 
Government  seems  to  have  a  deal  of  trouble  in  finding  enough 
honest  officials  for  its  present  small  functions! 

Third.  The  Government  is  practically  represented  in  the 
person  of  the  magistrate.  But,  by  the  nature  of  Government, 
"he  beareth  the  sword."  His  power  is  essentially  punitive. 
Transgressions  against  his  will  must  be  held  as  "crimes"  and 
"misdemeanors.''  Shall  his  industrial  functions  as  the  man- 
ager of  numberless  laborers  be  enforced  by  this  species  of  sanc- 
tion? Shall  the  Government  hold  that  i\x^  employee  who  has 
not  watched  his  power  loom,  or  chiseled  his  stone  aright,  is  to 
be  corrected  as  the  petty  larcener  is?  If  not,  how  else?  Un- 
der slavery,  this  negligent  laborer  might  have  been  corrected 
by  the  birch;  under  our  present  hireling  system,  he  is  cor- 
rected by  dismissal;  but  under  this  Governmental  plan  all  in- 
dustries, as  we  saw,  must  be  equally  the  Government's;  aac} 
whither  shall  it  dismiss  the  \q.zj  employe?  To  banishment  from 
his  country?  Hardly.  To  idleness?  If  he  is  still  to  have  from 
the  Government  his  subsistence,  this  would  be  a  mockery  of 
punishment;  rather  a  reward  for  idleness  and  an  injustice  to  the 
true  workers.  There  appears  no  mode  of  dealing  for  this  in- 
dustrial Government,  except  to  treat  defect  of  work  in  the  citi- 
zens as  larceny  is  treated. 

This  suggests  the  fourth  and  hardest  question  of  all.  If 
Government  is  to  be  general,  not  to  say  universal,  industrial 
agent,  it  must  see  to  it  that  all  whom  it  employs  and  subsists  do 


THE  LABOR  UNION,  THE  STRIKE  AND  TIIR  CO:\[MUNE.      319 

Iheir  houesc  sliare  of  ihe  work.  Far  orherwi^ie,  the  idlers  vvouIJ 
be  rewarded  for  their  sin  by  being  set  up  as  an  aristocracy  above 
tlie  faithful  workers,  to  live  at  ease  at  the  others'  expense.  Each 
citizen  then  must  be  held  responsible  to  Government  for  |the 
diligent  and  useful  employment  of  his  time,  under  some  eflflcient 
penalty.  But  the  "Government"  as  such  is  an  abstraction, 
which  directly  touches  no  man.  It  must  act  through  persons 
clothed  with  official  power.  The  meaning,  tlien,  would  be  that 
the  citizens  must  answer  to  some  officeholder,  representing  this 
sovereign  Government,  under  some  penalty,  for  doing  his  share 
of  work.  But  this  means  slavery  it  is  its  exact  definitions.  The 
conception  of  this  governmental  plan  is  communistic;  and  ev- 
ery thoughtful  man  knows  that  communism  means  either  an- 
archy or  slavery.  It  may  be  objected:  The  Government'e 
clerks  and  postmasters  now  work  precisely  under  that  system, 
and  are  not  slaves.  The  reply  is  first,  that  probably  they  some- 
times do  feel  that  they  are  virtual  slaves;  but  chiefly,  that  they 
become  employes  of  Government  now  by  their  own  free  appli- 
cation, and  may  resign  when  they  feel  oppressed  by  their  su- 
periors, and  thus  free  themselves  by  returning  to  private  life. 
But  on  the  plan  discussed,  all  this  would  be  different;  the  Gov- 
ernment v/oiild  be  compelled  to  exact  the  adhesion  of  its  work- 
ers,— as  it  does  of  its  conscripted  soldiers,  whose  condition  is 
that  of  bondage  for  their  term  of  service — and  to  refuse  this 
privilege  of  resigning. 

There  appears  then,  no  remedy,  except  in  the  firm  and  just 
administration  of  the  laws,  coupled  v;ith  wise  and  equitable 
commercial  and  industrial  legislation  and  the  propagation  of 
industry — ^economy  and  contentment  among  the  people  by 
means  of  Christian  principles.  There  is  no  attitude  for  the 
Government  towards  "strikes''  excejtt  the  legal  and  righteous 
one.  If  operatives  choose  to  form  a  society  to  forward  their 
own  interests,  they  have  a  right  to  do  so,  provided  they  do  not 
infringe  other  people  's.  If  the  society  cliooses  ta  "(pmrrel  with 
their  own  bread  and  butter''  by  rejecting  a  certain  work  at  cer- 
tain wages;  they  have  a  riglit  to  do  so.  But  i/ieir  recent  employers 
have  equal  right  to  go  into  the  labor  marl'ct  and  hire  others  for  that 
work  at  those  7vages;  and  all  other  laborers  have  equal  right  to  that 
work  if  they  are  tvilling  to  the  wages. 

The  moment  the  "union"  goes  an  inch  beyond  the  mere 


B20      THE  LABOR  UNION,  THK  STRIKE  AND  THE  COMMUNIS. 

withdrawal — the  moment  it  begins  to  obstruct,  terrorize,  or 
beat,  or  murder  the  employers  and  the  new  employes,  it  has  be- 
come a  criminal  conspiracy;  the  State  should  put  it  down  with 
as  prompt  and  firm  a  hand  as  they  would  put  down  highwayi 
robbery  or  foreign  invasion.  Ta  the  clear  and  just  mind  this  is 
clear.  But  is  there  any  American  State  which  performs  this 
duty?  Alas  no!  We  are  more  likely  to  see  the  State  Governors 
corresponding  with  and  conciliating  the  "strike,"  the  poweir 
whose  very  end  of  existence  is  "to  be  a  terror  to  evil  doers," 
bowing  to  the  conspiracy  of  evil-doers,  who  ought  to  be  bowed 
before  the  majesty  of  the  law.    Pitiful  sight! 

Troperry  is  always  i-autious.  apparently  timid,  at  the  be- 
ginning of  collisions,  for  it  is  conscious  it  is  valuable;  it  has 
much  to  lose.  But,  because  it  has  much  to  lose,  property  always 
defends  itself  resolutely  when  pressed  to  the  wall.  And  when 
rlie  i)eriod  of  caution  has  passed,  property  defends  itself  success- 
fully. For  money  is  power,  and  the  talents  of  acquisition 
which  gained  the  money  are  power.  One  thing  has  already 
become  clear  to  the  thought  of  property:  that  when  the  hour  of 
forcible  defense  comes,  the  militia  of  the  States  will  be  worth- 
less. They  are  too  near  the  rioters.  Property  will  inv.)ke,  as 
the  only  adequate  force,  the  standing  army  of  the  United 
States.  And,  as  the  industrial  centers  are  numerous  and  popu- 
lous, the  United  States  must  have  a  large,  a  widely  difEu^edi 
standing  army  to  invoke.  Thus  the  property-holder  will  be 
educated  by  his  needs  and  experiences  in  the  hour  of  trial,  to 
think  of  his  State  as  the  Cipher,  the  Washington  Grovernment 
as  the  only  Poiver.  The  discontented  classes,  who  must  at  last 
be  restrained  by  force,  will  be  educated  to  regard  State  author- 
ity as  a  shadow,  and  Federal  authority  as  the  substantial  fear. 
The  surest  result  of  the  approaching  strife  will  thus  be  to  com- 
plete the  practical  extinction  of  State  sovereignty,  and  the  con- 
solidation of  the  federation  into  one  empire.  It  will  be  an  em- 
pire governing  by  the  bayonet. 


THE  DEPRESSION  OF  AMERICAN  EARMlNti 
INTERESTS. 


By  Robert  L.  Dabney,  D.D.,  LL.  D., 


Professor    of    Moral    niul    Mental    riiilosophy    aud    Political 

Science. 


This  depressimi  is  roal  and  ji,reat,  at  least  when  com])ared 
wirli  the  other  industrial  interests  of  the  country.  The  life  af 
our  tillers  of  the  soil  may  not  be  so  sordid  as  that  of  the  Egyp- 
tian Fellahin,  or  of  the  Irish  cotter  tenants,  but  they  I'eceive 
h^ss  than  their  coniparative  share  of  the  material  rewards  of 
]al)[)r.  This  is  enou<>ii  to  constitute  the  offense  both  against 
public  justice  and  security.  It  is  an  outrage  of  the  equities 
which  a  boastful  i»oi)ular  government  should  secure  alike  for 
all  its  classes.  It  is  as  i-eal  a  ground  of  perilous  discontents  in 
the  great  farming  classes.  This  depression  is  proved:  (1)  By 
comparing  the  wages  of  other  industries  with  those  of  farm  la- 
bor: A  puddler  in  an  iron  mill  earns  ten  or  more  dollars  per 
day,  a  bricklayer  in  this  city  demands  |130  per  month,  a  house 
carpenter  or  stone-cutter  |70  per  mouth;  but  in  the  most  pros- 
]ierous  part  of  the  Southwest,  the  farm  laborer  receives  at  most 
|20  per  month,  with  plain  rations;  in  the  old  Atlantic  States, 
the  best  farm  laborer  receives  $8  per  month  and  rations.  Able- 
bodied  women  servants  receive  from  15  to  18  cents  per  day,  with 
rations.  But  the  strongest  point  is  that  the  profits  of  agricul- 
ture cannot  bear  even  these  wretched  wages.  It  is  the  almost 
invariable  experience  of  employers,  that  the  staple  cro.ps  pro- 
duced with  hired  labor,  ev(Mi  at  these  wages,  bring  the  capital- 
ists to  insolvency;  and  usually,  the  only  producers  who  escai)e 
this  result  are  those  who  till  their  crops  by  the  unpaid  labor  of 

~  '~~  321 


392       THE   DEPRESSION    OF    AMERICAN   FARMING   INTERESTS. 

themselves  and  rheir  cliiklrtMi.  This  rehitive  depression  is  prov- 
ed: (2)  By  comparing  rustic  with  town  life.  Both  classes  have 
their  paupers;  but  our  comparison  is  drawn  between  the  two 
great  middle  classes  in  rural  and  in  town  life,  who  employ  some 
capital  with  some  measures  of  persistent  labor  in  the  attempt 
to  create  values  in  the  two  spheres.  The  condition  of  the 
country  family,  as  to  long  hours  of  labor,  dress,  food,  dwelling 
and  furniture  equipage,  amusements  and  recreations,  is  found 
to  be  comparatively  hard  and  sordid.  But  the  comparative  con- 
ditions of  town  life  in  all  these  respects  are  easy,  handsome,  and 
even  luxurious.  The  non-agricultural  industries  and  employ- 
ments of  capital  somehow  enable  those  occupied  by  them  to 
spend  five  fold  as  much  in  the  superfluities  of  life.  A  fair  typi- 
cal instance  may  be  found  in  the  history  of  such  a  migration  as 
was  occurring  farty  years  ago  in  New  England  in  tens  of  thou- 
sands of  cases.  Two  brothers,  with  the  same  blood  in  their  veins 
and  the  same  education,  sold  and  divided  the  old  New  England 
homestead  to  migrate  to  Illinois.  Each  had  the  same  capital^ 
say  $3,500.  One  became  a  Chicago  trader,  the  other  a  prairie 
farmer.  The  success  of  each  has  been  neither  above  nor  below 
the  average  of  his  class.  We  compare  them  at  the  end  of  forty 
years.  The  Chicago  man  is  living  in  a  brownstone  front,  faring 
sumptuously  every  day,  indulging  his  family  freely  in  fashion- 
able amusements,  regarding  a  five  dollar  opera  ticket  for  each 
member  of  his  family  as  an  entirelv  reasonable  indulgence :  the 
pa/er  familias  assures  us,  with  a  smile  of  superiority,  that  he 
could  not  think  of  keeping  house  in  Chicago  on  less  than  some 
17,000  per  annum.  It  does  not  at  all  follow^  that  he  has  created 
or  amassed  wealth:  perhaps  if  he  were  forced  into  liquidation 
he  would  not  be  found  the  real  owner  of  the  |3,500  he  first 
brought  to  the  city,  but  the  luxurious  house-keeping  goes  on 
just  the  same,  with  its  enormous  annihilation  of  values  in  un- 
productive consumption;  of  which  the  only  salution  is  that  he 
is  consuming  values  created  by  other  people's  industry  and  cap- 
ital, which  he  extorts  from  them  by  the  jugglery  of  our  Ameri- 
can free  institutions.  Let  us  now  seek  out  his  brother,  the  prai- 
rie farmer.  We  find  him  on  the  little  prairie  farm  which  he 
bought  with  his  patrimony  forty  years  before,  living  in  a  board 
cottage.  By  virtue  of  an  unusual  diligence  and  prudence  he  is 
not  mortgaged,  and  in  consequence  of  the  appreciation  in  the 


*ttE  Depression  of  American  farming  interests.      :i2'j 

price  of  liis  land,  possesses  probably  15,000  or  |(i,OOU.  He  still 
dresses  in  working-  men's  clothes  and  cowliide  boots,  drives  his 
own  wagon  and  i)low  six  days  in  every  week  and  takes  a  hand 
in  all  the  hardest  forms  of  farm  labor.  His  hands  are  horny 
and  his  joints  nngainly  and  stiff  with  toil.  His  meals  are  jtlen- 
tifnl,  bnt  coarse,  for  tlie  demands  of  taxes,  commissions  and 
wages  reqnire  the  sale  of  the  larger  pail  of  tlie  bntter  and  poul- 
try produced  by  his  thrifty  farm.  His  best  equipage  is  his  si)ring- 
wagon,  drawn  by  plough  horses;  the  most  lavisli  amusement  of 
his  family,  an  occasional  visit  to  the  fifty-cent  circus.  His 
household  contains  no  liired  domestic;  wife  and  daughters  are 
the  only  indoor  drudges.  His  family  subsist  upon  ahont  |(>00 
per  annum.  I  am  aware  that  these  truthful  pictures  are  usually 
met  witli  the  cry  that  "skilled  labor"  deserves,  and  by  incnit+i- 
ble  economical  law  must  receive,  liigher  wages. 

It  is  claimed  that  the  labor  of  the  artisan  and  of  commerce 
is  skilled  labor,  wliilc  rustic  labor  is  unskilled.  Now.  this  is 
wliat  I  expressly  deny;  and  I  am  supported  by  the  l)est  econo- 
mists. It  is  true  that  this  Chicago  trader  has  become  skilled  in 
cei'tain  little  ai-ts  of  cornering  markets,  inflating  commissions, 
of  which  liis  rustic  brotlier  has  remained  ignorant,  greatly  to  his 
credit,  lint  the  prairie  farmer  has  developed  higher  intellectual 
skill  and  more  varied  resources,  in  place  of  the  petty-fogging 
arts  of  the  trader.  He  has  learned  the  wisdom  of  the  practical 
"crop-master,"  including  a  knowledge  of  the  climate,  seasons, 
soils,  manures,  modes  of  tillage,  crops,  and  is  yearly  exercising 
upon  these  data  the  wide  sagacity  of  the  inductive  philosopher. 
He  lias  become  a  veterinary  surgeon,  an  orchardist,  a  dairyman, 
a  machinist,  besides  practicing  a  half  dozen  distinct  trades.  On 
his  winter  evenings  he  has  read  many  more,  and  more  solid, 
books  tlian  his  brothei'. 

Or  let  the  artisan  be  com])ared  with  the  farm  laborer.  We 
may  be  pointed  to  the  city  bricklayer,  who  exacts  for  one  month 
of  his  labor  six  months'  wages  of  his  country  brother.  Oh!  we 
shall  be  told,  his  is  skilled  labor!  ''See  with  what  rapid  dex- 
terity he  spreads  a  trowel  full  of  morlar  and  lays  brick  after 
brick  accurately  to  the  line.  The  country  bum]»kin  cannot  do 
that!''  T  reply:  Put  a  weeding-hoe  into  this  bricklayer's  hands 
and  ])ut  him  to  chopping  out  cotton.  Let  us  see  whether  he  can 
cut  away  a  sprig  of  "crop-grass"  from  within  (Uie-quarter  of  an 


324      THE   DEPRESSION   OF   AMERICAN   FARMING   INTERESTS. 

inch  of  the  cottou  plant,  without  iiijui-ing  the  tender  stalk.  Give 
him  a  cotton  bag  and  let  us  see  whether  he  can  accomplish  one- 
sixth  part  of  a  man's  daily  picking.  Set  him  to  harness,  to  ad- 
just and  to  operate  a  mowing  machine  with  a  spirited  pair  of 
horses.  He  will  be  a  fortunate  bricklayer  if  he  escapes  the  first 
morning  without  being  sawn  asunder  by  his  own  cutter  blade. 
The  truth  is,  wliile  the  artisan  practices  a  few  very  handsome 
dexterities,  the  good  farm  laborer  must  practice  a  score;  of 
w^hich  each  one  is  as  hard  to  learn  as  the  dexterities  of  the  me- 
chanic. 

(3)  The  steady  and  alarming  drift  of  the  American  popula- 
tion from  country  to  town  reveals  the  depression  of  the  farm- 
ing interests.  This  transfer  has  now  assumed  frightful  projror- 
tions.  In  1700.  of  that  American  people  which  established  its 
independence  hy  revolution,  one-third  of  one  per  centum  lived 
in  towns  of  8,000  population  or  more.  Since  then,  the  steady 
and  increasing  drift  has  proceeded,  until,  in  1800,  25  per  cent., 
or  one-fourth  of  our  whole  population,  is  collected  into  towns 
and  cities.  Meantime,  towns  and  villages  under  8,000  people 
have  been  multiplied  two  hundredths.  But  these  also  give  only 
the  conditions  of  urban  life.  This  transfer  of  population  has 
been  long  continued,  and  is  increasing  rapidly.  It  has  a  cause. 
Our  own  observation  shows  us  that  nearly  every  American, 
3'oung  man  strives  to  quit  the  land  and  rush  to  the  town.  Some 
would  fain  persuade  us  that  this  drift  does  not  result  from  the 
comparatively  hard  conditions  of  country  life,  but  from  the  so- 
cial attractions  of  towns,  and  from  the  ill-informed  imagina- 
tions of  the  country  youth,  ignorant  of  the  trials  and  failures  of 
town  life,  and  flattered  with  visions  of  easy  and  rapid  wealth. 
This  solution  is  not  correct.  Kural  life  has  also  its  natural  at- 
tractions, which  ought  to  be  more  vivid  and  alluring  than  the 
garish  shows  of  the  city:  the  attractions  of  azure  skies,  of  green 
fields  and  forests,  of  country  sports,  by  field  and  stream,  of 
horse-back  exercise,  and  of  the  tender  and  sacred  associations  of 
home.  Healthy  young  natures  respond  keenly  to  these.  Were 
they  free  to  act  they  should  easily  countervail  the  tawdry  seduc- 
tions of  the  theater,  concert  room,  and  saloons.  A  few  days' 
experience  of  these  would  wear  off  all  the  tinsel  of  novelty:  the 
young  spirit  would  quickly  revert  to  its  more  natural  attrac- 
tions. Nor  is  it  true,  that  American  youths  are  ignorant  of  the 
real  conditions  of  city  life,  or  be  fooled  with  idle  visions  of  its 


THE   DEPRESSION  OF    AMERICAN   FARMING   INTERESTS.        826 

i:!:loi'ies.  rountry  people  know  more  of  the  citie.s  than  city  peo- 
ple do  of  the  country.  No  newspapers  are  printed  in  the  coun- 
try. It  is  the  cities  which  print  them,  and  the  country  people 
universally  read  them.  Ko,  our  young  people  are  well  aware  of 
whatever  is  hard  in  the  conditions  of  city  life,  but  they  w^eJl 
know  that  the  conditions  of  country  life  are  harder;  therefore 
they  crowd  the  cities. 

(4)  This  depression  is  revealed  by  the  deep  discontents  of 
the  farming  population.  In  our  day  they  find  a  renewed  and 
ever  widening-  expression.  Some  years  ago  the  Granger  move- 
ment spread  over  America,  and  engaged  the  interests  of  nearly 
the  whole  farming  population.  Xow  we  have  the  gigantic  and 
more  determined  movement  of  the  Farmers'  Alliance.  We  see 
this  conf;)unding  the  clearest  lines  of  national  parties,  driving 
the  most  trusted  statesmen  from  their  seats  of  power,  and  urg- 
ing their  passionate  demands  for  redress.  Let  none  deceive 
themselves  and  mock  at  these  mighty  movements  as  blind  or 
I'luile.  Let  none  flatter  tliemselves  that  farmers  cannot  com- 
biiie  effectively.  This  may  be  true  or  untrue,  yet  unquestionably 
we  see  here  the  .symptoms  of  a  terrible  and  deep  disturbance. 

Whether  this  feverish  bod3-  is  destined  to  be  wise  or  not,  it 
is  still  vast.  It  represents  the  industry  of  1(),00(MMM)  of  working 
hands,  and  the  direct  subsistence  of  more  tlian  3(>,(M>0,0()0  of 
souls;  indirectly  it  is  the  foundation  of  all  other  industries;  the 
values  which  it  creates  furnish  the  whole  material  handled  by 
all  other  industries,  manufacturing  or  commercial.  It  is  the 
only  source  of  the  food  and  raiment  of  all.  It  may  be  that  this 
huge  or  pressed  mass  is  to  be  compared  to  the  Titan  Enceladus, 
upon  whose  breast  Jove  piled  up  the  whole  bulk  of  Mount 
Aetna.  Like  Enceladus,  it  ma}'  not  be  able  to  throw  off  the 
super-incumbent  burden,  and  yet  its  convulsions  may  throw? 
lava  streams  of  anarchy  and  revolution,  which  will  rend  the 
whole  sujierstructure  and  burn  up  the  luxurious  vineyards  and 
gardens  which  bedeck  its  upper  surface. 

II. 

This  depression  and  displacement  of  the  farming  popula- 
tion should  be  the  subject  of  grief  and  alarm.  All  orders  of  the 
.\meric'an  people  are  vitally  interested  in  this  evil. 

First,  this  undue  drift  to  urban  life  is  injurious  to  the  pub- 


326       TflE    DEPRESSION   OF    AMKRICAN   FARMING   INTERESTS 

lie  wealth.  I  shall  uot  say  with  the  old  exploded  French  school 
of  Economists,  that  agricultural  industries  are  the  only  ones 
which  really  create  new  values.  I  admit  that  the  mechanical 
and  commercial  industries  create  increments  of  value  in  the  ag- 
ricultural products  upon  which  aBne  the}'  operate.  But  the 
pretended  industry  of  such  middlemen  as  really  contribute  noth- 
ihing  to  the  perfecting  and  circulation  of  commodities  is  an  un- 
productive nuisance.  Such  middlemen  are  scarcely  found  at 
;jll  in  the  ranks  of  ii,iirirulrnral  industry.  It  is  in  the  traffic  of 
towns  That  they  intrude  themselves  successfully.  These  are  the 
linman  hives  in  which  these  drones  are  found  in  needless  num- 
bers, consuming,  but  producing  no  honey.  We  have  seen.  als3 
that  the  tendencies  of  American  life  in  towns  are  far  more  lux- 
urious than  in  the  country.  Town  life  consumes  unproductively 
a  far  larger  share  of  the  values  created  in  the  society  than  does 
country  life,  by  its  ever  increasing  and  insatiable  pomps  of  liv- 
ing and  amusement.  Again,  urban  life  in  America  is  a  terri- 
ble consumer  of  the  human  species;  its  bills  of  mortality  show 
a  jarge  percentage  of  death.  Especially  is  the  American  city 
a  devoiirer  of  infant  life.  The  stifling  heats  and  polluted  at- 
mosphere of  the  lanes  and  alleys  inhabited  by  the  poor  in  mid- 
summer sweep  away  the  innocents  almost  as  fast  as  they  come 
into  the  world. 

Perhaps  it  is  the  vice  of  jur  American  home  life  that  only 
a  small  part  of  the  youth  reared  in  ciries  grow  into  habits  of 
steady  industry.  The  ranks  of  city  business  have  to  be  con- 
tinually refilled  from  the  country.  The  sons  and  grandsons  of 
those  who  have  prospered  in  town  are  unable  to  perpetuate 
their  parents'  prosperity.  Some  are  sybarites,  some  are  sots. 
The  country  has  to  be  drained  afresh  of  its  sturdy  sons  in  order 
to  replenish  the  ranks  of  industry.  Jefferson  did  not  much 
mistake  when  he  declared,  ''That  great  cities  are  but  great  ul- 
cers upon  the  b3dy  politic."  The  urban  population  become  un- 
safe depositories  for  political  power. 

The  minute  specification  of  occupations  breeds  a  narrow 
one-sideduess  of  mind,  the  people  with  a  great  conceit  of  their 
own  intelligence,  become  overweening  and  excitable;  revolu- 
tions alw^ays  begin  in  cities.  It  is  always  municipal  politics  which 
first  breed  political  corruption  in  America.  A  Tammany  could 
onlv  exist  in  a  crreat  citv.     Once  more  history  shows  that  the 


THE   DEPRESSION   OF    AMERICAN    FARMING   INTERESTS.        827 

martial  virtues  grow  chiefly  among  the  rural  popuhitiou.  i^hall 
we  be  reminded  of  the  New  York  Seventh  regiment  and  sim- 
ihir  amateur  (-ovps  in  our  pompous  cities.  What  part  have  these 
performed  in  actual  warfare?  A  large  portion  of  their 
rank  and  file  was  born  and  reared  in  the  country.  Cromwell 
found  the  London  train  bands  in  the  parliamentary  army  of  no 
account  in  the  shocks  of  battle.  Their  ranks  were  filled,  he 
sjiys,  chiefly  with  decayed  tapsters  and  serving  men,  the  squad- 
rons of  l*rince  Rupert,  formed  of  country  gentlemen,  rude  them 
down  like  herds  of  sheep.  Convinced  that  the  liberties  of  his 
countr}^  could  never  be  defended  by  such  soldiers  as  these, 
Cromwell  went  into  the  country  of  Huntingdonshire  and  there 
recruited  his  regiment  of  Ironsides  from  the  sons  of  the  yeoman 
freeholders.  Thus  he  formed  that  terrible  body,  which  carried 
victory  upon  its  bayonet  through  every  subseciuent  battlefield, 
which  never  met  an  enemy,  whether  it  was  the  chivalry  of  Eng- 
land, of  France  or  of  Spain,  without  both  defeating  and  de- 
stroying hiui.  The  Stonewall  brigade  was  recruited  by  Jackson 
from  the  s  )ns  of  the  farmers  in  the  Valley  of  Virginia.  Indeed, 
the  armies  of  the  Confederacy  were  all  armies  of  the  farmers; 
and  such  was  their  powers  that  it  required  a  gigantic  struggle 
of  four  years  to  enable  tlie  plutocracy  and  proletariat  of  the 
combined  world  to  overthrow  them.  But  they,  with  their  sys- 
tem of  rui'al  life,  have  been  suppressed. 

Woe  to  the  laud,  to  g-athering  ills  a  prey 
Where  wealth  increases,  and  where  men  decay. 

—Goldsmith. 

III. 

Every  patriot,  consequently,  should  wish  to  find  a  remedy 
for  this  continental  evil  of  agricultural  depression;  but  a  remedy 
can  only  be  found  by  ascertaining  the  causes  of  the  disease.  If 
our  efforts  are  directed  to  a  mistaken  cause,  they  will  work  only 
evil  and  not  benefit. 

I  do  not,  for  instance,  find  the  cause  of  this  depression  in 
the  existing  volume  of  American  currency:  nor  do  I  see  any 
hope  of  a  remedy  in  its  inflation.  Every  true  friend  of  the  far- 
mer sees  his  hopes  directed  to  this  false  (quarter  with  soi-row. 
For  we  are  aware  all  history  and  iscience  prove  that  such  in- 
flation can  only  aggravate  the  evils  which  now  gall  him  into 
justifiable  resentment.     So  evident  is  this  to  i»ersons  well  in- 


H28       THE   DEPRESSION   OF   AMERICAN   FARMING   INTERESTS 

formed,  that  when  they  see  the  pretended  advisers  of  the  Alli- 
ance misleading-  it  in  this  direction,  it  is  hard  to  suppress  the 
suspicion  that  they  are  the  bribed  agents  of  the  real  oppres- 
sors of  the  country,  practicing  to  perpetuate  their  domination 
bv  misdirecting  the  etforts  of  the  sufferers. 

But  would  not  inflation  of  currency  enable  the  farmer  to 
sell  his  products  at  a  higher  nominal  price?  Yes,  for  a  time,  but 
at  a  deadly  ulterior  cost  to  the  farmer. 

For  first,  that  inflation  of  currency  which  would  raise  the 
nominal  price  of  the  farmer's  products  must  at  the  same  time 
raise  the  price  of  all  the  other  commodities  which  the  farmer 
wishes  to  purchase. 

Let  us  suppose  that  inflation  enables  him  to  sell  tlie  cotton 
bale,  which  before  had  broug^ht  him  |40,  for  |80.  He  must  now 
pay  at  least  I^SO  for  |40  worth  of  those  goods  which  he  needed  to 
buy  with  that  cotton  bale  for  his  farm  and  family.  What  has 
he  gained  by  the  change  except  the  childish  amusement,  or  more 
probably  the  fatigue  of  counting  twice  as  many  dollars? 

But  second,  when  inflation  shall  have  raised  the  nominal 
price  of  his  cotton  bale  to  |80  he  will  not  be  able  to  purchase 
that  return  of  commodities  for  his  farm  and  family  for  |80, 
more  probably  he  will  have  to  pay  |100  for  them.  For  it  is  an 
established  fact  in  history  that  when  inflation  is  proceeding, 
land  values  and  their  prDducts  respond  more  slowly  to  the 
stimulus  of  prices  than  other  species  of  goods.  There  is  a  plain 
reason  for  this:  The  farmer's  values  cannot  be  made  to  change 
hands  so  quickly  as  the  commodities  of  the  merchant,  and  as 
everybody  knows  that  this  rise  of  price,  stimulated  by  inflation, 
is  precariaus  and  must  be  temporary.  'Nobody  is  so  foolish  as  to 
venture  a  full  increase  of  price  upon  these  slowly  moving  land 
values.  This  was  exactly  verified  in  1862,  when  the  rapid  in- 
flation of  the  Confederate  currency  was  stimulating  prices.  The 
prices  of  lands  and  negroes  had  scarcely  began  to  move  percep- 
tively, when  those  of  mercantile  commodities  had  been  inflated 
four  or  five  hundred  per  cent.  Thus  it  must  ever  be,  by  the 
time  inflation  shall  have  raised  the  price  of  the  farmer's  cot- 
ton bale  from  $40  to  |80  it  will  have  raised  the  prices  of  the 
goods  which  he  must  purchase  with  that  cotton  bale  to 


or  $i:iu. 

Third.    Inflation  of  currency  must  always  be  temporary, 


THE   DEPRESSION   OF    AMERICAN   FARMING   INTERESTS.       829 

Like  a  fevoi-  in  a  natural  body,  it  must  cure  itself  after  a  short 
time  or  kill  the  patient.  This  has  been  the  history  i)f  every  in- 
tiation,  ancient  or  modern.  Tliere  is  a  reason  for  this,  as  un- 
erring and  absolute  as  the  gravity  which  makes  rivers  run  down 
hill.  So,  a  portion  of  the  money  in  the  region  of  inflation  must 
immediately  begin  to  tlow  out  into  neighboring  societies,  where 
currency  is  not  inflated.  Why  do  unthinking  people  desire  in- 
flation? Because  it  raises  prices.  But  this  means  simply  that 
the  money  now  has  less  purchasing  power  within  the  region  of 
inflation  than  without  it.  And  now  the  self-interest  of  every  hu- 
man being  who  has  any  of  this  money  prompts  him  to  send  it 
away  from  the  place  where  it  has  less  purchasing  power  to  the 
places  where  it  has  more.  If  it  were  found  that  cotton  could  be 
sold  for  more  in  Galveston  than  in  Liverpool,  by  the  amount 
of  any  margin  above  the  freight  and  insurances,  cotton  would 
immediately  begin  to  come  back  from  Liverpool  to  Galveston. 
But  of  all  commodities,  money  is  the  quickest  to  respond  to  this 
inevitable  law  of  trade,  because  it  is  the  most  readily  handled 
of  all.  Unless  a  society  cuts  itself  off  absolutely  from  all  busi- 
ness relations  with  all  other  societies,  it  is  as  impossible  for  it 
to  maintain  permanent  inflation  as  for  the  engineer  to  sustain  a 
permanent  mountain  of  water  upon  the  fluctuating  bosom  of  the 
Gulf.  Inflation  sooner  or  later  cures  itself,  and  with  it  nominal 
prices  decline  again. 

In  the  fourth  place,  when  this  constriction  of  currency  be- 
gins, money  appreciates  in  value;  that  is  to  say,  its  purchasing 
power  is  now  increasing;  but  commodities  depreciate  in  value. 
That  is  to  say.  any  given  quantity  of  them  demands  less  money. 
But  the  money,  which  is  appreciating,  is  chiefly  in  the  hands  of 
the  money-lending  and  trading  classes.  It  is  the  conrmodities 
which  are  depreciating  which  are  in  the  hands  of  the  agricul- 
tural classes.  Thus,  whenever  the  inevitable  constriction  be- 
gins, it  is  they  who  lose  and  the  trading  classes  who  gain.  In- 
flation has  encouraged  the  farming  classes  to  make  debts;  these 
must  now  be  paid  oft"  with  their  crops  and  lands  at  depreciated 
prices.  Thus  again  it  is  the  farmers  who  suffer.  Some  will  ask, 
perhaps,  why  prudent  foresight  could  not  be  exercised  in  view 
of  the  coming  constriction,  so  as  to  adjust  one's  business  to  it, 
and  avoid  these  losses.  .1  answer:  It  is  precisely  the  money- 
lending  and  trading  classes  who  are  in  a  position  to  exercise 


880       THE    DKPRKSSION    OF   AMERICAN   FARMING   INTERESTS. 

I  hat  foresi^'lit,  and  it  is  precisely  the  fanners  who  are  not.  These 
live  scattered  through  the  country;  they  are  engrossed  with 
their  crops  and  stock;  they  are  the  last  to  learn  the  news  of 
the  api^roaehing  c  jnstriction  of  currency  and  changes  of  values. 
Even  if  they  forsee,  they  find  themselves  in  no  condition  to 
make  beneficial  use  of  their  foresight,  because  the  money,  which 
is  ap})reciatiug,  they  have  not  ready;  the  commodities  which  are 
dei)reciating  are  chiefly  what  they  have  to  dispose  of.  But  the 
trading  classes  live  in  the  centers  of  financial  news.  They  are 
the  first  to  learn  ,)f  coming  changes;  ready  money  is  the  crop 
wliit-h  they  handle.  Hence  it  is  they  who  are  sure  to  make  ad- 
vantage of  the  fluctuations.  Inflation  is  bad  for  the  business 
and  bad  for  the  morals  of  all  classes;  but  it  is  worst  of  all  for 
the  farmers. 

Our  country  has  lately  seen  an  exact  illustration  of  these 
principles  brought  out  upon  a  gigantic  scale.  The  Federal  cur- 
I'ency  which  replaced  the  Confederate  in  1865  was  a  paper  cur- 
rency inflated  about  fifty  per  cent.  This  inflation,  according  to 
the  universal  rule,  cured  itself.  The  greenback  dollar  approach- 
ed more  and  more  nearly  in  value  to  the  gold  dollar  until,  in 
1872,  one  was  eipuil  to  the  other,  and  specie  payments  were 
spontaneL)usly  resumed.  No  law  was  passed  by  State  or  Fed- 
eral government  to  force  that  result.  The  financial  wiseakers 
seemed  afraid  to  legislate  about  it.  Specie  resumption  came  of 
itself.  The  gold  room  died  of  itself  and  was  closed.  Some  may 
attempt  to  argue  that  the  result  was  not  spontaneous,  but  was 
virtually  forced  by  the  legislation  of  the  radical  party  contract- 
ing the  volume  of  the  Federal  treasury  notes  during  those  years. 
It  is  true  the  lavish  issue  made  of  those  notes  during  the  war 
was  arrested;  a  large  part  of  them  were  redeemed  and  with- 
drawn from  circulation,  but  every  dollar  thus  withdrawn  was 
redeemed  with  some  other  kind  of  circulating  dollars,  silver, 
gold  or  national  bank  notes;  and  there  was  nothing  to  forbid 
these  from  entering  the  circulation  and  filling  the  precise  place 
there  of  the  treasury  notes  withdrawn.  Again,  silver  and  gold 
mining  was  revived  and  rapidly  extended  during  those  years, 
throwing  into  the  veins  of  the  national  circulation  annually 
multiplying  millions  of  the  money  metals.  Still  again,  during 
those  years  a  high  war  tariff  was  enforced.  The  avowed  tenr 
dencyof  such  tariffs  is  to  create  the  so-called  "balance  of  trade'' 


THE   DEPRESSION   OF    AMERICAN   FARMING   INTERESTS.       331 

wliicli  causes  foreijiii  rui-i-ency  iustead  of  inijtortcd  coiimiodities 
iu  large  part  to  flow  into  the  "protei-ted"  eoiintry.  And  last 
the  chaste  national  banking  law  was  in  full  force,  ottering  un- 
limited incoi'jvjration  to  all  creditors  of  the  government,  and 
enticing  them  to  use  the  banking  privilege  freely  to  issue  na- 
tional bank  notes  by  that  cunning  arrangement  which  enabled 
the  bondholders  *'to  eat  their  cake  and  have  it  too."  Nothing 
but  the  natural  andinevitable  principles  of  currency  restricted  the 
indefinite  multiplication  of  national  bank  notes.  This  inflation 
cured  itself,  withjut  the  aid  of  human  legislation  or  any  force 
from  without.  Let  us  now  look  at  the  consequences  of  this  con- 
striction upon  the  planters  of  the  country.  Cotton  was  con- 
tinually depreciating  in  price,  while  money  was  ap])reciating. 
Debts  created  at  the  inflated  figures  must  now  be  paid  with  the 
pi*3ceeds  of  cotton  sold  at  declining  figures.  The  crop  mort- 
gages consumed  the  substance  of  the  planters  with  a  more  dead- 
ly voracity  from  year  to  year,  until  at  the  end  of  the  period 
money  lenders  and  commission  merchants  owned  all  that  was 
left  and  the  planters  were  paupers.  The  old  proverb  saith: 
•'Dame  experience  keeps  a  good  scliojl,  though  a  hard  one";  but 
it  is  the  only  one  fools  will  learn  in.  The  leaders  who  are  now 
attempting  to  seduce  the  Farmers'  Alliance  into  schemes  of  in- 
flation evidently  give  their  pupils  credit  for  even  a  less  amount 
of  brains  than  is  found  in  the  unf  )rtunate  alumni  of  the  severe 
dame. 

2nd.  The  earliest  cause  of  the  decay  of  the  American  farm- 
ing interests  was  the  overthrow  of  the  labor  system  of  the  South 
by  the  war  between  the  States  and  its  conse(]uent  measures.  T 
feel  no  fear  of  ott'ending  any  political  sensibilities  when  citing 
this  cause,  since  it  is  intioduced  not  f :)r  its  political  bearings, 
but  solely  for  its  econniiiic  instruction,  and  sini^^  I  cite  no  facts 
except  those  given  by  the  government  of  the  Ignited  States  it- 
self. The  census  retui-ns  of  that  govinaiment  testify  that  u])  to 
1860  the  Soutlicrn  lalxn-  system  had  been  most  fruitful  ami  m  )st 
productive  of  i)ublic  and  private  wealth  of  any  labor  sysiem  in 
the  country.  In  ISCO  the  South,  with  a  little  more  than  12,000,- 
000  of  souls,  possessed  taxable  values  to  the  amount  of  |(>,7()0,- 
000,000.  In  1880,  while  the  souls  were  17,000,000.  the  taxable 
values  an.iounted  in  round  numbers  to  ^:i,2;")0,000.000.  That  this 
immense  collapse  of  wealth  had  not  been  the  work  chiefly  of 


332       THE   DEPRESSION    Oh'    AMEItlCAX    ITAUMING   IJMTEKESTri. 

war  is  proved  by  the  testimony  of  the  government,  whose  cen- 
sus in  1870  found  the  Soutliern  people  still  possessed  of  taxable 
values  to  the  amount  of  about  |4,780,000.000.  The  Southern  la- 
bor system  had  been  destroyed,  and  with  it  this  fruitful  foun- 
tain of  national  wealth  was  dried  up  to  flow  no  more.  I  pre- 
sume no  one  can  be  so  unthinking  as  to  suppose  that  this  result 
affected  the  South  alone.  The  profits  of  civilized  society  are 
I'eciprocal.  When  men  wish  to  prosper  they  must  ''live  and  let 
live."  Commodities  produced  beyond  the  actual  wants  of  the 
producer  are  of  no  value  unless  there  is  somewhere  a  demand 
for  tJitm.    Without  an  exterior  demand  they  must  rot  unsold. 

It  is  not  merely  the  presence  of  numerous  people  with  hun- 
gry desires  which  creates  commercial  demand:  these  people 
must  also  possess  something  to  buy  with,  which  is  a  value  to 
the  vendors.  Before  1860  the  South,  with  its  lavish  production 
of  wealth,  bought  lavishly  of  the  products  of  the  States  north 
of  them,  and  that  at  liberal  prices.  They  bought  directly  im- 
mense volumes  of  the  agricultural  products  of  those  States. 
They  assisted  their  agriculture  indirectly,  also,  by  buying  huge 
volumes  of  their  manufactured  products.  In  1880  there  remain- 
ed in  the  South  abundance  of  hungry  desires,  but  little  was  left 
wherewith  to  buy  for  their  gratification.  The  agricultural 
prostration  of  the  South  has  reacte^l  against  the  North  by  an 
inevitable  law,  as  wise  Southern  statesmen  forewarned  the 
country;  measures  of  reconstruction  have  been  a  boomerang, 
^\hich  ha^  rebounded,  and  struck  in  the  rear  only  less  severely 
iln'.n  in  the  front.  This  immense  loss  to  both  sections  is,  of 
course,  irreparable:  the  wisest  economic  science  provides  no 
remedy  for  it.  An  arrogant  but  brutish  pride  may  tempt  men 
to  avert  their  eyes  from  incontestable  facts,  or  even  to  deny 
them,  because  they  cannot  now  be  repaired.  But  true  wisdom 
is  more  humble,  as  well  as  more  honest,  and  is  glad  to  learu 
from  every  fact,  however  mortifying. 

3rd.  I  find  a  second  complicated  and  powerful  set  of  caus- 
es for  agricultural  depression,  which  have  become  almost  uni- 
versal in  America  in  the  form  of  artificial  combinations  for 
monopolies.  Naturally  and  e(iuitably  the  ratio  of  supply  and 
denumd  ought  to  determine  the  price,  wiiicli  producers  shall  re- 
ceive for  any  class  of  services  or  products  they  offer.  If  one 
class  of  producers  can  artiticially  violate  the  law  of  supply  and 


THE   DKPRESStO^f   OF   AMfeRlCAN    FARMING   tNTERKStS.        '.V.YA 

deinaiid.  this  uiusr  of  course  be  by  tln'owiug-  the  lass  upon  con- 
sumei's  of  that  ehiss  of  services  or  values.  For  iustauce,  let  cer- 
tain irou  workers  combine,  create  an  artificial  monoiioly  of  their 
services  and  thus  inflate  their  price  by  means  of  the  restrictive 
rules  of  a  labor  uniju,  then  that  element  of  unjust  monopoly 
price  must  be  present  in  the  agricultural  machine  which  the 
farmer  buys.  In  paying  for  it  he  has  paid  in  addition  to  the  fair 
cost  or  the  raw  materials,  interest  on  capital,  wages  of  labor- 
ers and  equitable  commercial  profit,  a  further  monopoly  price 
to  these  laborers,  and  this  remains  an  uncompensated  plunder 
upon  the  farmer's  earnings,  unless  he  can  create  some  monopoly 
claim  upon  other  fellow  citizens  by  which  to  ''recoup''  himself, 
but  this  the  farmer  can  never  do.  Now  most  Americans  are  nou 
willing  to  let  the  equitable  law  of  supply  and  demand  regulate 
their  gains,  hence  nearly  every  industry  except  the  farmers  is 
now  organized  into  artificial  monopolies.  The  prices  of  nearly 
all  of  the  services  of  meclianical,  manufacturing  and  mining 
labor  are  manipulated  b}'  the  Knights  of  Labor  and  other  la- 
bor unions.  The  Printers'  Typographical  Union  legislates  that 
we  shall  pay  more  than  fair  market  price  for  type  setting  and 
thus  for  all  the  books  and  newspapers;  medical  associations  fix 
the  pnces  at  which  we  must  be  physiced;  legal  associations  for- 
bid the  gravitation  of  fees  for  suits  toward  that  modest  price' 
which  the  over-supply  of  legal  talent  would  otherwise  bring 
about.  The  commission  merchants  foreordain  what  per  cent- 
age  of  charges,  real  and  imaginary,  they  shall  levy  upon  the 
farmer's  produce,  which  are  never  remitted  however  disastrous 
to  him  their  sales  of  his  property  may  prove.  The  American 
Xail  Makers'  Association,  instead  of  observing  the  law  of  sup- 
ply and  demand,  ordains  what  we  shall  pay  for  each  nail  driven 
in  America.  The  salt  makers  order  the  shutting  up  of  nature's 
fountains  whenever  she  seems  likely  to  cheapen  that  article  of 
prime  necessity  by  a  more  liberal  outflow  of  her  waters.  The 
Lake  Superior  Copper  Company  legislates  that  every  copper 
wire  used  by  Americans  shall  cost  double  price  of  that  which 
the  same  company  sells  to  Europeans.  The  Standard  Oil  Com- 
pany inflates  the  price  of  petroleum  and  the  other  oils  and  de- 
presses that  of  the  farmer's  cotton  seed.  The  sugar  trust  regu- 
lates the  price  at  which  we  shall  taste  the  sweets  of  life.  There 
is  now  a  cigarette  trust  fixing  the  monopoly  price  at  which  our 


3^4      THE   DEPRESSION    OF   AMEKIcaN   FARMING   INTEHEstS. 

boys  .shall  poison  rlicmselves  and  jKjlhitc  the  arniosjjliere  around 
tlieui,  the  carrying  companies  of  the  country  make  all  their 
freight  charges  upon  the  products  of  agriculture  or  upon  the 
return  goods  which  these  procure.  Nearly  all  these  campanies 
inflate  these  charges  either  by  watering  their  stock  and  load- 
ing their  roads  with  unnecessary  bonds,  the  proceeds  of  which 
they  have  silently  appropriated;  and  they  then  load  the  pro- 
duce of  the  country  with  such  freight  charges  as  shall  pay  divi- 
dends both  upon  the  actual  and  the  fictitious  values.  Thus  ev-. 
ery  such  bjnd  or  share  of  stock  beyond  the  actual  costs  of  the 
roads  and  their  equipments  becomes  a  perpetual  lien  upon  the 
lands  and  products  of  the  farmers,  whom  they  profess  to  serve, 
levying  upon  them  for  all  time  both  a  just  and  an  unjust  profit. 
But  the  list  becomes  tiresome,  and  now  its  latest  addition  is  the 
American  Book  Publishing  Company,  which  proposes  to  levy 
a  monopoly  upon  the  brain  food  of  every  boy  and  girl  on  the 
continent. 

The  farmers  remain  one  of  the  two  great  industries  which 
has  hitherto  been  unable  to  combine  to  engross  the  earnings  of 
others,  or  even  to  protect  itself  against  engrossers.  This,  I  pre- 
sume, is  not  because  the  farmers  are  less  intelligent  or  less  hu- 
man than  the  other  classes,  but  because  they  are  so  numerous, 
so  separated  by  their  homes  and  pursuits,  so  divided  in  interest 
by  geographic  and  climatic  causes,  by  the  wide  diversity  and 
the  very  immensity  of  their  products.  Effective  combinations 
for  monopoly  can  never  become  feasible  for  them.  Nor  do  they 
desire  them.  What  they  righteously  demand  is  means  to  protect 
themselves  against  other  monopolies.  How  to  do  this  is  a  suflfic- 
iently  hard  problem  for  them. 

The  other  great  class  of  Americans  found  in  the  same  help- 
less condition  is  the  class  of  home  makers.  The  10,000,000  of 
American  wives,  mothers  and  sisters  who  perform  more  unre- 
mitting toil  for  smaller  compensation  than  even  the  tillers  of 
the  soil.  It  would  be  well  for  them  to  make  common  cause  with 
the  Farmers  Alliance.  The  other  industries  manage  to  overrule 
the  equitable  laws  of  supply  and  demand  by  their  artifices,  the 
farming  interests  has  to  accept,  for  the  immense  mass  of  values 
it  creates,  less  than  the  natural  law  of  supply  and  demand  would 
ajjportion  them. 

4th.    It  is  these  unfair  conditions  which  cause  the  enor- 


THt:   BEtJlESSION    Oi^    AkKJilCAN    FAKklNG   INTEfeEStS.        S^f) 

mous  taxation  of  the  American  Governnienr  to  press  witli  siicli 
crushing-  weight  upon  tlie  farming  interest;^.  It  is  dimcult 
to  ascertain  the  real  aggregate  of  the  Federal,  the  State,  the 
county  and  the  municipal  taxes  whicli  our  people  have  to  Dear. 
Enormous  sums  are  levied  in  the  irregular  and  vague  forms  of 
sherittV  and  clerks'  fees.  We  shall  not  go  far  wrong  in  estimat- 
ing the  total  of  $20.00  per  capita  for  ever}-  American  soul. 
These  taxes  are  so  diversified  and  the  modes  of  collection  varied 
with  such  ill-starred  ingenuity  tliat  the  victims  are  scarcely 
aware  of  their  own  burdens.  The  average  farmer  whose  family 
includes  five  souls  will  be  much  mistaken  in  supposing  that  he 
gets  off  by  paying  one  hundred  dollars,  i.  e.,  .|20.00  for  each  soul 
in  his  house.  Many  pauper  families  almost  wholly  escape  ass- 
essment. The  personal  jjroperty  of  the  rich  is  often  secreted 
from  taxation  to  a  shameful  extent,  but  the  assets  of  the  farmer 
remain  visible  and  palpable.  The  governments  are  remorseless 
in  their  demands  of  the  |20.00  from  each  soul.  Hence  those 
who  have  property  and  who  cannot  and  do  not  secrete  it  from 
taxation  must  pny  in  addition  to  their  own  shares  the  shares  of 
all  the  paupers  and  all  the  deceivers.  No  additional  words  are 
requisite  to  show^  how  hardly-  these  exactions  must  press  upon 
those  industries  whose  capital  and  labor  are  already  yielding 
the  scantiest  returns.  Such  are  the  industries  of  the  American 
farmer.     For, 

5.  The  Federal  legislation  is  so  adjusted  as  to  be  most  in- 
imical to  his  rights  and  interests.  I  refer  chiefly  to  the  so-called 
protective  system  of  the  United  States,  which  is  the  prime 
source  of  the  worst  evils  now  crushing  the  farming  interests  in 
America.  I  have  explained  how  the  various  rings  and  trusts  op- 
erate to  filch  away  the  farmer's  earnings  without  giving  him  any 
just  equivalent.  It  is  the  tariff  which  provides  the  conditions 
of  success  for  all  these  monopolies.  As  long  as  these  fatal  con- 
ditions subsist  it  is  not  probable  tliat  the  oppressed  classes  will 
find  any  remedy.  American  ingenuity  will  always  invent  ways 
to  evade  the  oi)eration  of  the  principles  of  the  common  law 
against  forestalling  and  regrating,  and  any  statutes  passed  by 
the  States  and  by  Congress,  in  a  country  burdened  with  such 
an  administration  of  justice  as  ours.  The  resort  to  free  trade 
would  of  itself  abolish  the  conditions  requisite  to  the  success 
of  these  iniquities  so  that  they  would  perish  of  themselves.    We 


'i96       THE  DEPEESSION   OF    AMERICAN   FARMING   INTERESTS. 

see,  for  instance,  the  new  book  trust  preparing  its  machinery  to 
levy  a  monopoly-profit,  iu  addition  to  equitable  manufacturing 
and  commercial  profits,  upon  every  school  child  in  America. 
Let  Congress  only  pass,  in  one  line,  the  righteous  statute  remov- 
ing all  tariffs  upon  school  books,  and  this  gigantic  fraud  would 
be  checkmated  at  once.  The  best  and  cheapest  printers  in  the 
world,  in  Leipsig,  Halle,  Brussels,  Edinburg,  would  in  a  few 
weeks  place  in  our  seaports  ship  loads  of  American  school 
books,  printed  in  our  own  language,  with  perfect  accuracy,  at 
half  the  price  of  the  monopolies. 

Every  one  understands  that  when  the  government  levies 
tariff  imposts  upon  imported  goods,  the  final  consumer  ,of  those 
goods  inevitably  pays  both  the  value  of  those  goods,  with  reason- 
able commercial  profits  thereon,  and  the  tarilf  tax  in  addition, 
increased  by  parallel  charges  of  prjfits  and  commissions  upon 
it  also. 

But  the  tendency  of  the  system  is  to  enable  American  pro- 
ducers of  similar  goods  to  enhance  the  prices  of  them  also  to  the 
same  level.  This  tendency  may  be  partially  checked  by  mutual 
home  competition,  but  here  come  in  all  the  monopoly  rings  and 
combinations  designed  to  deprive  the  consumers  of  this  check 
of  home  competition.  Were  this  tendency  of  tariff  laws  fully 
i-ealized  their  result  would  be  that  consumers  would  pay  as  sim- 
ple plunder  to  private  fellow-citizens  four  dollars  of  unearned 
profits  for  every  dollar  carried  by  the  tariffs  into  the  Federal 
treasury.  This  is  bad  enough;  but  it  only  reveals  the  small  be- 
ginnings of  the  injustice  wrought  by  the  protective  system  upon 
the  great  farming  classes.  To  comprehend  the  w^hole  the  reac- 
tionary influence  of  the  protective  system  against  the  prices  of 
all  the  great  export  staples  created  by  the  tillers  of  the  soil  must 
be  clearly  understood.  By  the  term  ^'Export  Staples"  we  mean 
all  those  classes  of  commodities  w^hich  are  produced  in  Ameri- 
ca in  larger  quantities  than  Americans  can  consume.  Thivs 
over  plus  of  each  class  of  commodities  requires  and  seeks  a  for- 
eign market,  for  without  this  it  must  only  be  wasted  by  need- 
lessly lavish  use  at  home  or  rot  unronsumed.  Either  result  is  a 
loss  to  the  producers.  Let,  now,  these  indisputable  facts  be 
combined:  First.  International  traffic  must  be  mainly  barter 
of  goods  for  goods;  it  cannot  be  mainly  the  sale  of  our  goodis 
for  the  money  of  our  national  neighbors,  for  only  the  gold  and 


!i?^E  DEPRESSION    OF   AMERICAN   FARMING   INTERKSTS.        337 

silver  money  of  one  nation  can  pass  to  another  for  the  purchase 
of  Its  gaods.  It  is  impossible  that  one  nation's  paper  monej 
can  be  made  to  circulate  as  currency  within  another  nation.  It 
is  equally  impossible  that  one,  nation  can  part  annually  with 
successive  portions  of  its  metallic  money  to  pay  for  the  goods  of 
another  nation  which  it  desired  to  acquire.  The  reason  is  abso- 
lute: Very  soon  the  volume  of  metallic  currency  in  the  pur- 
chasing nation  would  be  relatively  so  reduced  that  money  would 
be  appreciated,  the  prices  of  commodities  depreciated,  and  fur- 
ther importations  of  them  for  sale  would  become  impossible. 
Such  a  form  of  international  trade  is  therefore  inevitably  self- 
arresting.  If  international  trade  is  to  go  on  at  all  it  must  be 
the  barter  of  goods  for  goods.  Only  so  much  specie  can  pass 
backwards  and  forwards  as  will  equalize  the  small  temporary 
oscillations  in  the  balance  of  trade  and  in  stirring  exchange. 

Second.  All  taritfs  are  restrictive  upon  free  international 
barter.  They  are  intended  to  be  such.  It  is  their  boast  to  be 
such.  If  they  did  not  operate  to  restrict  the  intiux  of  imported 
goods,  they  would  utterly  fail  to  operate  as  protective  of  home 
manufactories.  Hence,  when  the  United  States  enacts  that  cer- 
tain goods  imported  from  Great  Britain  shall  pay  a  tariff  im- 
post, it  thereby  enacts  a  restriction  upon  the  volume  of  such 
goods  possible  to  be  exported  to  us  by  Great  Britain. 

Third.  This  at  once  operates  as  a  restriction  upon  the  pur- 
chasing power  of  all  foreign  nations  as  \3  all  our  Export  Sta- 
ples. 

It  is  their  interest  to  purchase  freely  of  our  export  staples 
at  good  prices,  provided  we  will  let  them  pay  in  the  various 
useful  goods  which  they  produce  at  such  moderate  prices  and 
which  we  need.  But  the  tariff"  system  says  to  them:  "No,  you 
shall  not  buy  freely  of  our  great  export  staples  which  we  so 
much  need  to  sell;  for  we  will  not  take  freely  of  those  cheap  and 
useful  goods  which  you  produce,  and  which  we  need,  and  with 
which  alone  it  is  possible  for  you  to  pay  for  what  we  send  you." 
Let  us  instance  our  cotton  crop.  It  is  impossible  for  American 
spinners  to  consume  annually  mor<^  than  two-fifths  of  it.  Shall 
the  rest  rot  unspun?  Great  Britain  says  to  us:  We  like  your 
cotton;  it  is  good;  we  spin  something  more  than  2,000,000  bales 
per  annum,  and  cannot  ri^ir  one  pound  in  England;  we  are  only 
too  glad  to  make  you  a  good  market  at  good  prices  for  that 


338       THE   DEPRESSION   OF    AMERICAN   FARMING   INTEflESTS. 

vast  portion  of  \'Our  surplus,  provided  you  will  let  us  pay  you 
in  the  only  things  with  which  it  is  possible  for  us  to  pay,  viz: 
our  cheap  and  excellent  manufactured  good:s  which  will  be  so 
useful  to  you.  But  now  comes  in  the  American  tariff  and  for- 
bids Great  Britain  doing  this  gaod  part  by  our  cotton  surplus. 
It  sternh  restricts  the  quantity  of  British  goods  which  can  be 
sent  into  America  to  pay  for  cotton,  and  thereby  restricts  the 
purchasing  power  of  Britain  as  to  our  cotton.  Britain  must  con- 
sequently buj-  less  of  our  surjilus,  and  that  at  reduced  prices. 

The  actual  result  is  that,  instead  of  buying  every  pound 
she  spins  from  u?<,  which  .she  would  gladly  do,  our  tariff'  lawis 
force  her  to  buy  as  little  as  possible  from  us  and  at  the  worst 
possible  prices,  and  to  seek  a  supply  for  her  deficit  of  cotton 
from  the  unfriendly  climates  of  Hindoostau  and  from  Egypt 
and  Brazil,  which  are  glad  to  sell  the  cotton  they  rear  to  her 
without  this  senseless  restriction.  This  great  instance  showis 
how  surely  tariff'  restrictions  operate  against  the  prices  of  all 
our  export  staples. 

Fourth.  The  foreign  price  of  these  staples  inevitably  rules 
the  prices  of  all  sold  at  home.  Thus  the  tariff  system,  by  injur- 
ing the  price  of  that  portion  sold  abroad,  injures  the  price  of 
every  bushel  and  every  pound  produced  upon  the  whole  con- 
tinent. Is  any  one  ignorant  enough  to  doubt  this?  Does  not 
every  intelligent  person  know  that  every  reaction  against  the 
price  of  grain  in  Mark  Lane,  of  tobacco  at  the  London  docks, 
of  cotton  in  Liverpool,  immediately  depresses  the  prices  of  these 
staples  in  every  American  city.  Let  cotton  decline  five  points 
in  Liverpool  to-day;  let  Hubbard  &  Price  report  the  price  to- 
morrow morning  on  the  blackboard  of  the  New  York  Cotton  Ex- 
change. Down  goes  cotton  in  New  York  five  points.  As  soon 
as  the  telegraph  can  bring  the  news  to  Galveston,  down  goes 
the  price  there  five  points,  and  by  day  after  to-morrow  there 
will  not  be  a  hamlet  in  Texas  where  the  retail  purchaser  will 
not  insist  upon  a  reduction  of  five  points  in  his  price. 

Let  us  now^  glance  at  the  quantity  of  these  export  staples 
created  by  American  tillers  of  the  soil.  In  1891  they  produced 
2,000,000,000  bushels  of  Indian  corn,  040,000,000  bushels  of 
wheat,  more  than  this  quantity  of  oats,  eight  and  one-third  mil- 
lions of  bales  of  cotton,  8,000,000,000  pounds  of  tobacco,  be- 
sides dairy  products,  beef  products,  hog  products,  naval  stores 


i'SB   DEPRESSION   OF    AMERICAIsr    FARMING   INTERESTS         '.V.V.) 

and  other  commodities.  The  sellinji'  price  of  all  this  immense 
mass  of  values  has  been  depressed  against  the  tillers  of  the  soil 
by  this  reflex  operation  of  tariff  laws.  And  for  what  end?  That 
inflated  and  unrio-hteous  profits  mav  be  i)iled  up  in  tlie  pockets 
of  a  few  thousand  manufacturing:  capitalists.  And  this  is 
American  republicanism?  We  need  no  longer  wonder  at  the 
cruel  depression  of  the  American  farming  interests. 

The  price  of  ten  cents  per  pound  for  cotton  leaves  to  the 
planter  a  bare  chance  of  a  scanty  proiit.  In  this  month  of  Jan- 
uary-, 1892,  yeomen  farmers  have  been  selling  their  cotton  in 
the  streets  of  Austin  at  a  heart  breaking  price  of  five  cents  per 
pound.  Lasf  year  the  remorseless  McKinley  tariff  ivent  into 
operation.  ^ly  argument  shows  that  we  have  liere  not  only 
the  post-hoc  but  the  propier-hoc.  But  meantime  the  prairie 
farmer's  wheat  has  advanced  from  80  cents  per  bushel  to  |1.()5? 
Yes.  But  is  it  possible  that  human  eft'rontery  and  ignorance 
could  ascribe  this  beneficial  result  tn  the  McKinley  tariff?  We 
are  told  tliat  tliis  impossibility  has  actually  been  accomplished 
successfully  in  the  Northwest  by  protectionist  demagogues. 
"The  force  of  nature  can  no  farther  go."  It  would  be  a  curious 
problem,  whether  the  impudence  of  the  deceivers  or  the  stu- 
pidit}'  of  the  deceived  is  the  more  gigantic.  My  argument  has 
demonstrated  that  a  restrictive  system  can  only  act  adversely 
against  tlie  price  of  any  and  every  export  staple. 

Tlie  American  tarilf  is  opei'ating  adversely  to-day  against 
the  price  of  American  wheat.  This  slight  rise  (which  saves  the 
prairie  farmers  for  a  moment  from  despair)  is  purely  the  result 
of  a  great  and  sudden  dearth  of  breadstuff  among  nearly  all  the 
2S0,0()U,U()()  of  Europeans.  Such  a  stimulus,  but  for  the  blight- 
ing influence  of  our  tariff,  should  have  sent  American  wheat 
up,  not  to  the  poor  ])rice  of  fl.OS  per  bushel,  but  to  |1.()0.  Un- 
der the  twenty  per  cent,  tariffs  which  prevailed  from  1S4()  to 
1801,  smaller  stimuli  in  European  markets  again  and  again 
sent  tlu'  price  of  AnuM-ican  wheat  up  to  f  1.75  per  bushel. 

It  will  be  easily  ])erceived  from  the  above  analysis  that  I 
have  no  (luack  nostrums  to  ])roj)ose  to  the  farmers  as  remedies 
for  theii'  wrongs.  Tlu^  jiolitical  nu^asures  which  are  due  to 
them  and  which  would  relieve  tlu'  unjust  pressure,  are  the  lion- 
est  and  simple  ones  of  old  Soutliern  statesmen. 

Economical  government,  reduced  taxation,  the  arrest  and 


340      THE   DEPRESSloK   OF   AMERICAN  FARMING   INTERESTS. 

repeal  of  all  class  legislariuii  and  a  swift  return  to  strictly  leve- 
nue  tariffs.  Will  the  great  producing  classes  see  their  true 
remedy  and  combine  in  their  strength  to  exact  of  our  rulers  its 
faithful  application?  I  fear  not.  Impatience  misleads  many. 
The  evil  is  chronic.  Safe  and  wholesome  remedies  will  only 
operate  slowly.  The  money  oligarchy  has  its  hired  advocates 
everywhere  afield,  who  misdirect  the  views  of  the  people.  It 
is  to  be  feared  the  greatest  obstacle  to  true  reform  lies  here; 
the  real  remedies  are  simple  and  honest,  but  the  political  mind 
of  America  is  largely  dishonest.  The  true  theory  of  republican 
government  taught  by  the  fathers  of  America  was  this:  That 
the  sole  function  of  civil  government  is  to  protect  the  equitable 
rights  of  all,  while  it  bestows  class  privileges  on  none,  and 
leaves  each  free  citizen  to  work  out  his  own  preferred  welfare 
by  his  own  honest  exertions  in  his  individual  independence. 
But  the  popular  conception  of  government  has  come  to  be  that 
it  is  a  complicated  and  powerful  machine,  to  be  manipulated 
for  the  advantage  of  whatever  cliques  can  seize  the  control  of 
it,  so  as  to  juggle  other  people's  earnings  into  their  pockets. 
Consequently  the  prevalent  picture  in  our  political  movements 
is  this:  The  oppressing  clique  struggles  by  every  means,  fair 
and  foul,  to  retain  its  hold  of  the  crank  of  the  lucrative  ma- 
chine. The  oppressed  clique  does  not  seek  the  restoration  of 
justice  to  all.  Tliat  is  too  simple  and  old  fashioned.  No;  what 
it  seeks  is  to  grasp  in  its  turn  the  crank  of  the  machine,  in  or- 
der to  make  it  so  revolve  as  to  recotip  its  losses,  avenge  itself 
upon  its  oppressors,  and  imitate  their  selfish  use  of  power.  The 
danger  is  that  amidst  these  species  of  struggles  patriotism  and 
political  morality  will  perish.  Parties  will  become  more  venal 
and  a  constantly  narrowing  oligarchy  of  wealth  will  take  the 
place  of  true  republicanism. 

If  the  great  agricultural  class  does  not  possess  the  e(iuity. 
wisdom  and  firmness  to  enforce  the  righteous  remedy,  for  uo 
other  class  will  find  its  interests  in  doing  it.  we  may  consider 
free  government  in  America  as  doomed. 


'■THE  DOLLAR  OF  1  HE  DADDIES." 


(P>om  the  Houston  Post,  March,  1892.) 


Such  has  been  the  very  war-cry  of  the  so-called  "silver 
men"  in  politics.  They  claim  continually  that  the  standard 
silver  dollar  known  as  the  "Bland  dollar''  is  precisely  the  dol- 
lar of  our  daddies  and  that  therefore  they  demand  it.  Now 
the  meaning-  of  this  claim  is,  that  the  precedent  of  the  Fed- 
eral government,  the  example  of  its  founders,  and  the  weight 
of  their  wisdtun  and  patriotism,  justify  the  continued  and  un- 
limited coinage  of  this  dollar,  containing  three  hundred  and 
seventy-one  grains  of  pure  silver.  I  shall  show  that  this  plea 
fathers,  in  form  and  naime,  but  not  in  reality  and  worth,  that 
is  uncandid  and  false,  that  this  coin  is  now  the  dollar  of  our 
were  those  wise 'old  patriots  here  now,  instead  of  fathering  it 
they  would  most  certainly  reject  it.  from  the  force  of  the  very 
principles  by  wliich  they  shaped  the  money  policy  of  the  coun- 
try. The  phrase  is  only  a  catch- word  to  juggle  with,  not  an 
argument  to  reason  from.  Some  explanation  is  needed  to 
evince  this. 

It  is  true  that  our  fathers  adopted  the  "double  standard" 
for  the  Federal  coinage,  and  that,  by  the  advice  of  an  excellent 
financier,  Mr.  Albert  Gallatin.  The  "single  standard"  makes 
both  gold  and  S'ilver  money  for  the  people  and  coins  both  for 
their  use,  just  as  truly  as  the  doufble  standard.  The  difference 
between  the  two  plans  is  just  this:  the  single  standard  makes 
silver  coins  "legal  tender"  for  debts  only  to  small  amounts 
(say  up  to  ten  dollars  (-flO),  while  for  all  larger  debts  gold  coins 
ahuie  are  legal  tender.  The  plan  of  the  "double  standard" 
makes  the  silver  and  gold  coins  both  legal  tender  for  debts  of 
any  amount,  however  large,  at  the  option  of  debtors.  That; 
alone  is  the  essential  point  of  difference.  The  results  which 
are  designed  and  which  follow  in  fact  from  the  two  plans  are 

341 


342  THE  DOLLAR  OF  THE  DADDIES. 

these:  The  single  standard  gives  the  people  both  silver  raouey 
and  gold  money  to  buy  and  sell  with,  just  as  the  people  prefer 
the  one  or  the  other,  and  indeed  it  provides  the  people  as  much 
silver  money  as  they  find  it  convenient  to  use  in  preference  to 
gold;  but  it  does  not  enable  debtors  to  compel  their  creditors 
by  force  of  law  to  take  silver  coins  (except  in  very  small 
amounts)  as  the  forcible  measure  and  standard  of  the  values 
wliich  they  got  from  their  creditors  and  which  debtors  are 
bound  to  return  to  them  when  pay  day  come«.  The  law  con- 
fers that  power  only  ou  gold  coins:  that  is  all.  1  repeat,  the 
law  of  the  single  standard  allows  the  i)eople  tD  enjoiy  either 
silver  or  gold  coins  as  measures  of  value  in  trading  with  each 
other,  just  as  they  choose  to  agree  together  at  the  time;  but 
the  law  refuse-s  to  empower  debtors  to  force  anything  on  their 
creditors  as  the  fixed  standard  of  values,  to  be  receivable  w^hen 
pay  day  comes,  except  gold  coins.  Such  and  no  more  is  the 
plan  of  the  single  standard  in  those  great  nations  which  have 
adopted  it,  Russia,  Germany  and  Great  Britain;  and  such  was 
the  whole  extent  of  the  much  abused  law  of  1873  adopting  the 
single  standard  for  the  United  States.  The  designed  and  ac- 
tual result  of  the  double  standard  is  that  it  enables  all  debtors 
to  compel  their  creditors,  by  force  of  law,  to  take  either  silver 
or  gold  coins,  as  the  standard  of  values  received,  at  the  debt- 
or's option. 

Every  truly  scientific  writer  and  statesman  recommendis 
the  single  standard,  in  all  countries:  and  this  for  two  reasons; 
one  is  that  the  plan  of  double  standard  is  always  liable  to  be- 
came dishonest  and  mischievous  unless  it  l3e  corrected  by  a 
means  very  expensive  and  troublesome.  The  other  is  that  this 
plan  always  tends  to  make  silver  money,  or  gold  money,  or 
both  more  scarce,  and  thus  to  deprive  the  people  of  the  con- 
venience of  having  plenty  of  both  kinds  in  use.  Whereas  the 
single  standard  tends  to  keep  them  both  in  circulation  and 
especially  plenty  of  silver.  So  that  the  advocates  of  double 
standard  and  free  coinage  are  exactly  wrong  in  telling  the  peo- 
ple that  their  plan  will  keep  more  silver  in  circulation.  This 
may  lo'ok  strange  at  first,  but  the  following  facts  make  it  plain. 

These  metals  are  not  only  the  materials  of  coinage,  but_ 
always  articles  of  traffic  in  commerce.  Xo  laws  and  no  power 
on  earth  can  prevent  this.     As  articles  of  traffic,  they  must 


THE  DOLLAR  OF  THE  DADDIES.  343 

fluctuate  in  relative  value  uuder  the  well  known  law  of  supply 
and  demand,  just  as  iron,  cotton,  wheat,  and  tobacco  fluctuate. 
If  the  annual  croip  of  silver  remains  the  same,  while  the  gen- 
eral demand  for  ir  diminishes,  its  price  must  fall.  If  the  de- 
nuind  remains  as  before  and  the  crop  increases  the  price  must 
fall.  If  the  annual  crop  increases  faster  than  the  demand  the 
price  must  fall,  but  if  the  relation  of  supply  and  demand  in 
the  case  of  gold  remains  permanent  while  either  of  these 
changes  happens  to  silver  it  must  become  cheaper  relatively 
to  gold.  That  is,  if  sixteen  ounces  of  silver  sufficed  before  to 
buy  one  ounce  of  gold  in  metal  markets,  it  will  now  requia'e 
more  than  sixteen  ounces  of  silver.  Or.  a  quantity  of  wheait 
which  would  before  buy  sixteen  ounces  of  silver  or  one  ounce 
of  gold  indifferently  will  now  buy  more  than  sixteen  ounces  of 
silver,  and  still  only  one  ounce  of  gold. 

If  a  governuient  persists  in  the  plan  of  the  double  stand- 
ard after  the  silver  in  its  dollar  has  thus  come  to  'be  worth  less 
than  a  dollar  it  begins  to  practice  a  wrong,  and  to  unsettle  its 
standard  of  values.  As  a  rocking  foundation  is  no  real  foun- 
dation at  all  for  a  house,  sj  an  unsettled  standard  is  no  stand 
ard.  Such  a  coinage  instead  of  regulating  traffic  in  a  whole- 
some manner  tends  to  work  confusion  and  disturbance  in  all 
business  transactions.  For  instance,  two  citizens  in  the  exer- 
cise of  their  rightful  freedom  have  covenanted  that  the  one 
shall  give  to  the  other  certain  goods  to  be  valued  at  one  thou- 
sand dollars  and  to  be  paid  for  by  that  number  of  these  coins. 
But  what  does  "dollar"  mean?  Clearly  the  government  when 
undertaking  to  regulate  that  matter  ought  to  give  but  one 
answer.  To  give  two  different  ones  is  confusion.  Does  "dol- 
lar" mean  twenty-three  and  one-fifth  grains  of  pure  gold?  Or 
does  it  mean  three  hundred  and  seventy-one  grains  of  pure  sil- 
ver? But  these  are  now  quite  different  values  I  One  of  the 
mischiefs  always  attending  this  confusion  is:  That  it  starts 
circulation  in  currency  itself,  besides  inflaming  speculation  in 
all  other  kinds  of  goods  bought  and  sold  with  currency.  This 
is  ever  a  curse  and  let  it  be  noted  that  it  is  the  small  money 
lending  class  which  always  profits.  In  the  end.  it  is  the  large 
borrowing  class  which  always  loses,  when  currency  itself  is 
speculated  in.  Especially  is  this  true  against  the  fai^mers.  And 
the  reason  is  perfectly  simple  and  certain.     It  is  the  money 


344  THE  DOLLAR  OF  THE  DADDIES. 

lending  class  whicli  is  always  the  most  quickly  informed  of 
the  shifts  and  fluctuations  between  the  two  currencies  because 
it  is  their  business  to  study  them  and  they  lire  just  in  the  cen- 
ters of  action;  while  the  farmers,  scattered  over  the  country 
and  busy  in  their  fields,  are  the  last  to  find  out  what  is  com- 
ing. Moreover  the  money  lending  class  is  most  able  to  pro- 
duce changes  and  shifts  in  the  currencies,  which  it  is  their 
business  to  handle  in  large  (luautities.  Hence  we  see,  that  the 
politicians  make  two  most  absurd  blunders  when  they  tell  the 
farmers  that  it  is  to  their  interest  to  have  abundant  "soift 
money"  or  silver  money  of  infeiior  value;  and  that  the  Wall 
street  men  advocate  a  single  standard  and  oppose  free  silver 
coinage  of  standard  dollars  from  selfish  greed.  The  self  in- 
terest of  the  maney  lending  class  would  lead  them  to  desire 
another  period  of  uue(iual  currencies,  for  they  know  that  they 
get  rich  fastest  in  such  times,  and  the  debtor  class  suffers  most. 
And  it  is  precisely  the  farming  class  whicli  in  the  outcome  al- 
ways sufi'ers  by  "soft  money."  Does  the  aljundance  ;)f  this 
seem  for  a  time  to  raise  the  price  of  farm  products?  It  is  a 
miserable  cheat;  for  when  settling  day  comes,  as  come  it  must, 
the  farmers  always  find  that  they  have  been  paid  for  what  they 
have  to  sell  with  cheap  monej-  and  now  have  to  pay  what  they 
owe  in  dear  money.  The  farmers  of  the  United  States  may  be 
sure  that  Mr.  Cleveland  is  their  truest  and  best  friend  here. 
He  is  a  learned,  wise  and  honest  man :  let  the  farmers  listen  to 
him  if  they  wish  to  know  what  is  for  their  good. 

This  is  proved  by  our  recent  history  from  1862  to  1871i 
when  the  country  had  two  different  currencies,  paper  and  me- 
tallic; then  it  was  the  famous  gold  room  seethed  every  day  like 
a  caldron.  It  was  then  the  foundations  were  laid  for  those  col- 
lossal  fortunes  in  the  hands  of  a  'few,  which  all  men  now  see 
to  be  so  threatening  to  the  rights  and  welfare  of  the  people. 
It  was  then  the  grand  impulse  was  given  to  that  fatal  process 
which,  ever  since,  has  been  making  the  rich  richer  and  the  poor 
poorer.  Let  the  experience  of  that  time  also  teach  the  farmers 
the  other  truth;  that  in  a  time  of  ''soft  money"  it  is  they  who 
suffer,  and  it  is  the  money  lending  class  which  gains.  The 
period  I  have  marked  was  a  time  of  soft  money.  When  the 
war  between  the  States  ended  the  Federal  paper  money  quickly 
I^ecame  less  depreciated,  so  that  one  and  a  half  dollars  of  it 


THE  DOLLAR  OF  THE  DADDIES.  345 

were  equal  to  one  gold  or  silver  dollar;  and  the  paper  money 
gradually  appreciated.  But  it  was  soft  moue^'  until  the  re- 
suuiption  of  specie  payments.  Now  who  was  it  that  got  rich 
during  that  period?  It  was  the  bankers  and  commission  mer- 
chants whj  lent  advances  to  farmers,  while  the  farmers  got 
poorer  and  poorer.  Indeed  the  lending  class  almost  ate  up  the 
farming  class  bodily.  That  was  the  epoch  when  Richardson,  of 
Jackson,  Miss.,  from  being  a  little  commission  merchant,  be- 
came the  largest  cotton  planter  in  ^the  world,  through  the 
agency  of  his  advances  and  crop  mortgages.  Let  farmers  learn 
by  experience. 

The  silver  shouters  tell  the  farmers  that  the  unlimited 
coinage  of  silver  dollars  of  inferior  value  is  tie  'way  to  give 
them  abundance  of  silver  money;  which  I  expressly  deny.  It 
is  the  very  way  to  make  money  of  both  kinds  scarcer.  Again 
I  appeal  to  stubborn  facts.  Under  the  Bland  law,  the  United 
States  has  coined  more  than  three  huudred  millians  of  these 
inferior  silver  dollars.  ^leautinu'  Great  Britain,  in  her  wis- 
dom, retains  the  single  standard  and  limited  coinage  of  silver. 
But  this  very  year  the  people  of  the  United  States  are  employ' 
ing  only  $ i  go  per  capita  of  silver  money;  while  the  people  of 
Great  Britain  are  employing  $2.85  per  capital  The  rest  of  our 
silver  coinage  lies  obstinately  in  the  vaults  of  the  treasury? 
the  people  will  not  take  it  out  and  handle  it,  though  the  gov- 
ernment coaxes  and  almost  britoes  them  to  do  so.  Do  these 
facts  look  strange?  They  are  explained  by  a  simple  view  of 
human  nature.  The  people  know  in  spite  of  the  demagogues 
that  these  Bland  dollars  are  inferior  in  commercial  value,  each 
one  is  worth,  in  fact,  less  than  75  cents.  Now  let  an  article 
which  the  people  know  to  'be  inferior  be  offered  for  their  use 
on  two  plans:  Let  the  one  plan  be  to  offer  it  to  their  free  op- 
tion and  say  to  them.  "Here  it  is,  it  is  an  inferior  article;  \t\\\ 
can  use  it  if  yon  chouse  wherever  your  convenience  calls  for 
it,  or  you  can  let  it  alone."  The  other  plan  says  to  the  jieople, 
"This  article,  which  you  believe  to  be  inferior,  you  shall  \w 
made  to  take  as  superior,  even  equal  to  the  best,  and  if  you 
take  it  when  pay  day  comes,  the  law  will  compel  you  to  pay 
back  in  the  best  and  dearest."  Every  one  who  knows  human 
nature  knows  that  the  first  plan  will  circulate  far  more  of  that 
article  than  the  second  plan.  Suppose  it  were  an  inferior  grade 


346  THE  DOLLATl  OF  THE   DADDIES. 

of  butter,  or  flour,  or  cotton,  cloth,  or  lard;  let  any  grocer  or 
housekeeper  answer.  Leave  them  free  to  settle  at  an  inferior 
price  for  the  inferior  article  according  to  their  own  judgment, 
and  convenience  will  prompt  them  to  use  a  good  deal  of  ir;  but 
when  y3u  make  a  law  that  the  inferior  shall  be  priced  as  high 
as  the  best,  everybody  naturally  resolves  to  have  as  little  to  do 
with  it  as  possible.    It  is  the  .same  with  the  people's  money. 

The  other  consequence  of  our  double  standard  with  an  in- 
ferior silver  dollar  as  legal  tender  for  all  amounts  is  still  more 
certain:  it  will  ultimately  drive  away  all  the  gold  coiu.  The 
people  have  been  hearing  lately  of  "Gresham's  law."  This  is  a 
principle  in  the  science  of  currence  so  called  ibecause  that  great 
man  explained  and  proved  it  so  well  300  years  ago.  It  is  this: 
Where  the  law  makes  two  kinds  of  money  to  be  currency  of 
which  one  is  worse  than  the  other,  the  worse  kind  always  tends 
tf)  drive  the  better  kind  out  of  circulation  and  out  of  the  hands 
of  the  people.  So  long  as  the  quantity  of  thv  worse  currency 
is  quite  limited  the  great  inconvenience  of  having  too  little  cur- 
rency of  either  kind  may  check  this  natural  tendency,  keeping 
some  of  the  better  currency  in  circulation,  temporarily.  But 
the  tendency  is  at  work  all  the  time,  and  when  the  quantity  of 
the  worst  money  is  increased  enough  to  fill  tJie  natural  chan- 
nels of  trade  all  the  good  money  goes  away.  This  also  is  but 
nature  and  common  sense.  Let  any  man  ask  himself;  suppose 
he  were  going  to  buy  a  |10  coat  with  two  kinds  of  money  in 
his  pocket,  one  kind  commercially  worth  25  per  cent,  more 
than  the  other,  while  the  law  empowered  him  to  force  the  mer- 
chant to  take  10  of  either  kind  as  |10.  He  also  knows  that 
there  is  a  money  broker  whom  he  can  reach,  who  will  give  him 
twelve  of  the  meaner  dollars  for  ten  of  his  better  kind.  What 
will  he  be  inclined  to  do?  Of  course,  he  will  keep  back  the 
better  dollars  and  force  the  merchant  to  take  the  meaner  ones; 
he  gains  $2  by  it.  Such  is  exactly  rlie  position  of  all  money 
dealers  in  financial  centers.  They  find  that  they  can  make  a 
Bland  dollar,  by  virtue  of  bad  law,  buy  a  gold  dollar's  worth 
inside  the  L'nited  States,  while  outside  it  will  pay  only  75 
cents.  Of  course  then,  whenever  they  have  money  to  pay  in 
Europe,  India,  China,  or  Australia,  they  are  going  to  send  gold 
money  to  pay  it,  while  they  keep  the  meaner  silver  money  to 
])ut  off  on  their  fellow  citizens.    The  tendency  is  as  inevitable 


THE  DOLLAR  OF  THE  DADDIES.  347 

as  an}'  other  law  of  nature.  Let  free  coinage  go  on  and  sooner 
or  later  the  last  American  gold  coin  will  go  out  of  American 
circulation. 

Fact^  prove  this.  Between  179-  and  18,34  silver  had 
cheapened  a  little  in  the  commercial  markets  of  the  world.  At 
the  later  date  a  gold  eagle  (|lUj  sold  for  |1().05  in  silver.  This 
was  an  appreciation  of  a  little  over  six  per  cent.;  the  conse- 
quence was  that  all  the  gold  coinage  jf  the  United  States  went 
entirely  out  of  circulation  among  the  people.  There  was  noth- 
ing but  silver,  bank  notes,  and  wretched  shin  j»lasters.  One 
might  as  well  have  looked  for  feathers  from  angels"  wings  in 
the  hands  of  the  people  as  for  the  gold  coins  of  their  own  gov- 
ernment. Congress  saw  the  necessity  of  restoring  commercial 
equality  of  value  between  its  silver  dollars  and  its  gold  ones. 
It  effected  this  by  the  law  of  1831,  which  reduced  the  quantity 
of  virgin  metal  in  the  grold  eagle  from  217  1-2  grains  to  232 
grains,  or  a'bout  six  per  cent.  Then  their  gold  imoney  began  to 
stay  and  circulate  at  home.  Now  if  a  difference  of  six  per  cent, 
in  value  sent  all  our  gold  coin  out  of  circulation,  what  will  a 
difference  of  25  per  cent,  do?  It  must,  for  the  stronger  reason, 
banish  all  our  gold.  Circumstances  may  delay  the  tlow;  they 
cannot  stop  it  linall}-.  The  tendency  in  this  law  of  currency  is 
as  infallible  as  the  tendency  of  rivers  to  run  down  hill.  A  dam 
across  a  stream  may  check  the  current  until  the  pond  is  full: 
then  it  continues  to  run  down  hill  as  before. 

I  have  now  reached  the  place  to  signalize  the  dhshonesty 
of  the  jockey  "catch-word,"  the  dollar  of  our  daddies.  This 
claim  should  mean,  were  it  not  a  contemptible  fraud,  that  the 
fathers  of  the  government  committed  themselves  for  all  time 
to  a  dollar  of  371  grains,  irrespective  of  tluctuatious  in  the  rela- 
tive price  of  silver.  But  this  is  precisely  what  they  never  did. 
Their  example  to  us  was  to  make  a  silver  dollar  equal  in  com- 
mercial value  to  their  gold  dollar  and  to  anake  whatever 
changes  afterwards  might  be  needed  to  keep  them  equal,  ^\lly 
did  they  put  just  371  grains  of  pure  silver  into  their  standard 
dollar  in  171)2?  See  Hamilton,  Jetferson  and  Gallatin.  Be- 
cause 15  ounces  of  silver  would  then  buy  1  ounce  of  gold,  at 
which  ratio  the  371  grains  of  silver  exactly  equaled  in  value 
the  tenth  part  of  217  1-2  grains  of  gold  allotted  to  the  gold 
dollar.     In  1831.  when  silver  had  fallen     so     that  it  took  IP; 


348  THE  DOLLAll  0¥  THE   DADDIES. 

ounces  to  buy  au  ounce  of  gold,  the  fathers  recognized  the  need 
and  duty  of  making  a  change  in  the  coinage  to  equalize  the  two 
kinds.  This  they  did  by  lightening  the  gold  coin  6  per  cent.  If 
the  silver  men  now  are  not  trying  to  cheat  the  people,  by  this 
chiini  of  the  fathers'  precedent,  let  them  do  what  their  fathers 
did,  equalize  the  two  kinds  of  dollars.  If  those  fathers  wiere 
here  now  they  would  effect  this  by  putting  one-fourth  more 
silver  into  the  standard  dollar.  Not  by  taking  one-fourth  of 
the  gold  out  of  the  gold  dollar.  Because  they  would  have  sense 
enough  to  know  that  such  a  sudden  and  wide  leap  downwards 
in  the  value  of  botli  dollars  would  be  ruin;  it  would  be  a  gii.- 
gantic  theft  upon  the  government  and  upon  every  creditor  of 
the  gjvernment,  or  of  individual  Americans  throughout  the 
world,  and  would  make  a  financial  convulsion  which  woudd 
strew  the  country  with  bankruptcies.  The  other  consequence 
of  a  double  standard,  when  the  relative  value  of  silver  to  gold 
has  changed,  is  a  moral  one.  If  the  government  does  not  read- 
just its  two  kinds  of  dollars  by  recoinage,  it  becomes  guilty  of 
wickedness.  This  is  the  wickedness  of  using  itself,  and  enabling 
the  citizens  to  use.  divert  and  false  measures  in  buying  and 
selling.  The  function  of  money  is  to  be  the  instrument  of  ex- 
changes between  commodities.  In  doing  this  the  money  be- 
comes the  temporary  measure  of  value.  When  the  government 
makes  two  kinds  of  dollars,  one  more  valuable  by  a  fourth  part 
than  the  other,  and  by  law  empowers  the  buyer  to  force  the 
meaner  sort  of  dollars  on  the  seller,  as  equal  to  the  better  sort; 
this  is  precisely  as  though  the  law  should  authorize  cloth  mer- 
chants to  keep  two  yard-sticks,  one  36  inches  long,  to  buy  with, 
and  one  27  inches  long,  to  sell  with,  and  force  the  people  to  call 
them  both  full  yards.  In  dry  goods  trade  this  would  be  simple 
rascality:  why  is  it  not  the  same  in  currency?  This  is  the 
wickedness  forbidden  in  God's  law.  Deut.  25:  'Tliou  shalt  not 
have  in  thy  liag  divers  weights,  a  great  and  a  small.  Thou 
ishalt  not  have  in  thine  house  divers  measures,  a  great  and  a 
small.''  Hence  it  is  the  imperious  moral  duty  of  every  gov- 
ernment which  chooses  the  double  standard  to  make  and  to 
keep  all  its  kinds  of  dollars  of  equal,  and  of  unifonm  and  sta- 
ble value,  to  the  best  of  its  ability.  If  it  does  not  try  to  do  this, 
it  is  a  thief  and  an  abettor  of  thieving  in  its  citizens. 

I  have  now  described  the  two  great  evils  which  attend  the 


TFt«  bOLtAR  0^  TFIE  tiADDtES.  34^ 

plan  of  rlie  double  standai-d  when  rlic  relative^  value  of  ihe 
metals  has  changed.  The  only  honest  remedy  is  the  reeoinage 
of  all  the  money  which  the  government  has  made  out  of  one 
or  the  other  metal.  But  this  remedy  is  terribly  expensive  and 
inconvenient.  I  will  now  explain  this  by  supposing  the  remedy 
applied  to  the  present  "Bland  dollars."  Let  us  say  there  are 
now  300,000,000  of  them.  First,  104  grains  of  pure  silver  has 
to  be  put  into  every  one  of  these  dollars  to  make  them  honest. 
This  would  require  about  64,000,000  ounces  of  silver;  whieh. 
would  cost  at  this  time  about  160,000,000  in  gold.  Who  is  to 
pay  for  this?  The  government,  of  course.  It  has  no  money 
except  by  taxing  the  people.  That  is,  the  hard  pressed  tax 
payers  must  buy  it.  The  meaning  of  which  is  that,  were  this 
false  coinage  raised  to  100  cents  values  now  the  people  must 
be  gouged  sixty  millions  to  pay  for  the  blunders  which  Con- 
gress has  perpetrated  under  the  advice  of  these  silver  men.. 
But  this  is  not  all.  All  the  silver  coins  in  the  use  of  the  peo- 
ple anust  be  sent  back  to  the  mints,  to  be  made  over  again  and 
made  honest.  This  will  be  several  months'  work.  In  the  mean- 
time what  are  the  people  to  do  for  silver  change?  What  a 
tremendous  spasm  in  business  we  shall  have  here!  At  this 
point  some  thoughtless  person  is  going  to  say,  "This  spasm 
can  be  avoided  by  calling  back  to  the  mints  for  recoinage  only 
small  installments  at  one  time  of  the  silver  monej'  in  the  peo- 
ple's hands."  Nay.  we  are  not  out  of  the  woods  yet!  The 
small  installments  of  the  full-weight,  new  coins  must  ible 
thrown  into  circulation  as  fast  as  they  are  manufactured;  else 
this  plan  does  nothing.  But  take  notice:  the  community  now 
has  two  kinds  of  silver  money,  a  better  and  a  worse;  and 
Gresham's  law  immediately  ibegins  to  work  against  the  better 
kind.  The  money  brokers  will  take  out  of  circulation  the  good 
new  dollars,  nearly  as  fast  as  the  mint  throws  them  in;  so  the 
agony  will  be  prolonged.  English  history  tells  us  how  power- 
fully this  influence  obstructed  the  new  coinage  at  the  end  of 
the  seventeenth  century,  in  spite  of  the  honest  administration 
of  William  and  Mary  and  the  transcendant  talents  of  the  mint- 
master,  who  was  no  other  than  Sir.  I.  Newton. 

But  if  these  things  would  be  done  in  the  green  tree,  what 
would  be  done  in  the  dry?  Suppose  that  we  had  the  free  coin- 
age of  silver  into  Bland  dollars,  which  many  clamor  for!  Gold 


3oO  THE  DOLLAR  OF  THE  DADDIES. 

would  h;^  diiveii  fi-oiii  us  iu  all  purchases  and  payniouts  just 
as  fast  as  llie  miuts  could  coin  the  silvei-;  and  when  the  volume 
of  the  latter  became  large  enough  to  relieve  the  check  on  gold 
exports,  operated  by  the  stringency  of  a  deficient  currency,  the 
last  of  our  gold  would  go.  Who  would  be  fool  enough  to  pay 
gold  for  any  purchase  or  debt  when  law  enabled  him  ta  gain 
25  per  cent,  b^'  paying  in  silver?  Let  us  suppose  a  debtor  ow- 
ing |1,000,  who  has  provided  a  thousand  gold  dollars,  or  goods 
equal  thereto,  wherewith  to  pay;  he  has  only  to  use  this  gold 
instead  of  letting  his  creditors  have,  it,  to  buy  silver  buliiou 
and  to  send  it  to  a  mint  where  the  United  States  will  make  'it 
into  Bland  dollars  for  him,  without  even  charging  him  ihc 
slight  toll  of  a  seignorage;  and  he  wipes  off  his  |1,000  debt  ;;nd 
has  |2o0  silver  dollars  left  in  his  pocket;  of  course  he  will  io 
this.  Of  course,  every  other  debtor  will  do  the  same.  Nobody 
will  receive  any  gold  for  any  purchase  or  debt.  It  will  prac- 
tically cease  to  be  American  money.  Thoughtless  people  say, 
let  us  have  free  coinage  of  silver  in  order  to  have  money 
plenty*.  It  is  the  very  way  to  make  money  scarce,  for  it  will 
drive  away  all  our  gold,  which  will  not  only  take  out  .f05(»,()00,- 
000  of  American  gold  now  existing,  but  it  will  dry  up  all  that 
vaster  volume  of  credits  now  doing  money's  work,  founded  on 
that  gold. 

But  the  silver  men  claim  that  silver  is  not  really  depi-e- 
ciated  in  the  world's  commercial  market.  They  assert  that  the 
enormous  depression  on  its  price  is  the  wicked  work  of  the 
'^gold  bugs''  in  passing  the  law  of  the  single  standard  in  1873, 
and  of  Germany  in  adopting  the  single  standard,  thus  forcing 
France  to  do  the  same.  They  claim  that  if  the  United  States 
will  adopt  free  coinage,  and  especially  if  she  could  persuade 
the  European  nations  to  return  to  the  double  standard,  the 
event  would  show  it,  and  silver  would  mount  up  again  to  the 
good  old  price  of  KJ  for  1.  Sound  financiers  know  that  this  is 
all  idle  and  false.  Silver  will  never  return  to  its  former  rela- 
tive value  in  a  century,  because  its  decline  has  not  been  due 
to  any  legislative  acts  in  either  Europe  or  America,  but  to  an 
enormous  increase  of  production  and  partial  diminution  of  de- 
mand. In  the  first  place,  if  the  United  States  could  persuade 
the  European  nations  to  come  back  to  the  double  standard 
this  would  not  increase  the  general  demand  for  silver  for  cir- 


tMe  Collar  of  tWe  da^Dies;  '551 

eiilatiau,  hut  ratlun'  diminish  it;  for  I  have  shown  rhai  tlie 
countries  of  the  single  standard  ciicuhite  much  more  silvei- 
per  capita  than  the  United  States,  wliich  has  the  double  stand- 
ard. In  the  next  place,  the  United  iStates  never  will  persuade 
the  European  nations  to  adopt  our  bad  system  of  currency. 
Their  statesmen  are  not  such  fools.  Their  Parliaments  are  lot 
cursed  with  "silver  lobbies,"  where  private  producers  of  the 
siher  crop  have  their  hired  agents  to  cause  the  government  to 
"bull"  the  price  of  their  special  crop  at  the  expense  of  all  other 
honest  producers.  Some  of  those  Parliameuts  may  have 
"Houses  of  Peers";  but  they  are  not  infested  with  oligarchs 
carrying  mining  camps  in  their  pockets  as  their  rotten  bor- 
oughs under  the  name  and  pretext  of  sovereign  States.  They 
may  send  commissioners  to  Paris  and  Berlin,  highly  paid  at  the 
people's  expense,  to  ventilate  their  sophisms  before  the  Euro- 
pean financiers;  it  will  result  in  nothing.  Such  commission- 
ers have  already  been  sent  and  they  were  heard  with  civil  con- 
tempt, as  they  deserved.* 

\Yhen  we  learn  the  simple  facts  as  to  the  amazing  change 
in  the  annual  volume  of  the  silver  crop  we  see  plainly  enough 
why  it  has  become  and  will  remain  much  cheaper.  Xew  and 
\ery  rich  lodes  of  ore  have  been  discovered  like  the  famous 
Comstock  mine.  Chemistry  has  improved  the  methods  of  ex- 
tracting the  metal.  Old  mines  have  been  reopened  as  railroads 
and  industrial  enterprises  are  extended.  Twenty  years  ago  the 
annual  crop  of  the  United  States  and  territories  was  about 
nineteen  millions  of  ounces.  It  is  now  one  hundred  and  sixty- 
one  millions.  ^Yhat  else  can  result  from  this  enormous  in- 
crease in  the  crop  than  a  marked  decline  in  relative  price?  Last 
3'ea.r  the  American  crop  of  cotton  increased  from  about  seven 
and  a  quarter  millions  of  bales  to  eight  million  and  six  hun- 
dred thousand.  This  knocks  the  i)rice  down  from  ten  to  eiglit 
cents  per  pound.  Here  the  increase  was  less  than  one-sixth, 
and  it  made  the  price  fall  one-fifth.  But  the  increase  in  the 
silver  crop  has  been  eight-fold,  not  seventeen  per  cent.,  but 
eight  hundred  per  cent!  "Oh,  but,"  exclaim  the  silver  m,en. 
"the  area  of  commerce  and  civilization  is  rapidly  increasing; 
and  with  it  the  demands  for  silver  for  currency  and  the  arts." 

*This prophecy  is  fulfilled  by  the  failure  of  the  recent  Brussels  conference. 


352  THE  Dollar  of  the  daddies. 

I  reply,  so  the  uses  af  cotton  and  the  world's  market  for  cot- 
ton fabrics  are  annually  extending.  Has  the  area  of  commerce 
been  extended  eight  hundred  per  cent,  in  twenty  years?  This 
at  least  would  be  necessary  in  order  to  absorb  the  eight-fold 
silver  crop,  if  the  other  elements  of  demand  remain  as  before. 
I>ut  the}'  have  not.  The  demand  for  silver  has  relatively  de- 
clined in  several  respects.  As  to  the  arts:  There  are  more 
people  now  than  twent}-  years  ago  who  think  they  are  rich 
enough  to  use  plate  on  their  tables  instead  of  earthenware? 
Yes,  but  the  cheap  process  of  electrotyping  has  been  invented 
and  the  people  use  a  hundred  times  as  much  of  these  wares. 
Again,  the  methods  of  traffic  in  India,  China  and  Japan,  wi'th 
their  six  hundred  millions  of  industrial  people,  are  changing, 
so  as  to  employ  relatively  less  silver  and  more  gold,  and  bank 
credits.  The  Chinese  and  Japanese  have  long  employed  silver 
as  their  chief  money  of  commerce.  But  since  the  opening  of 
their  ports  a  large  part  of  the  trade  has  passed  into  the  hands 
of  Europeans,  whose  money  of  commerce  is  almost  exclusively 
gold  and  bank  credits.  When  India  was  governed  by  its  na- 
tive princes,  the  uncertaintj'  and  rapacity  of  their  exactions 
under  the  name  of  taxes  had  farmed  an  almost  universal  habit 
among  the  people  of  annually  hoarding,  secreting  and  burying 
their  savings  in  the  form  of  silver  coins.  But  now  the  British 
have  governed  India  for  a  generation.  The}'  are  conquerors; 
but  the  Hindoos  have  had  time  to  learn  that  if  masters,  they 
are  wise  and  systematic  masters.  Official  abuses  are  sternly 
punished.  Assessments  and  taxes,  if  heavy,  are  regular.  The 
people  have  learned  that  there  is  no  occasion  to  secrete  or  'bury 
their  riches.  The  silver  coins,  which  they  are  able  to  save, 
need  no  longer  be  buried  in  the  cow  yard,  but  can  be  carried 
to  the  savings  bank,  where  they  will  earn  some  interest.  Thus 
they  are  returned  at  once  into  the  circulation.  The  result  of 
this  change  has  been  the  closing  of  a  species  of  gulf  into  which 
an  annual  stream  of  millions  of  European  and  Spanish-Ameri- 
can silver  used  to  flow,  to  reappear  no  more  for  a  life  time. 
(Much,  indeed,  never  reappeared,  because  the  secret  of  the  hid- 
ing places  died  with  the  owners).  This  stream  is  now  turned 
back  into  circulation  and  speedily  makes  its  presence  felt  in 
the  Western  world  by  reason  of  the  close  commercial  relations 
between  India  and  Europe  and  America. 


T^E  DOLLAR  OF  THE  DADDIES  35^ 

For  tliese  and  other  reasons,  it  is  evident  that  the  old  re- 
lation of  snpply  and  demand  in  the  silver  market  is  perma- 
nently changed.  An  ounce  of  gold  will  never  again  be  bought 
for  less  than  twenty  ounces  of  silver.  The  best  proof  of  this 
is  that  the  fraudulent  and  unwise  efforts  of  the  Congress  to 
''bull"  the  silver  market  by  its  coinage  laws  of  1878  and  1890 
have  been  ridiculous  failures.  All  they  effected  was  a  small 
spurt  In  the  price  of  silver  for  a  few  weeks.  It  quickly  dropped 
to  its  fixed  price  of  about  a  dollar  per  ounce  (of  48(1  grains.)* 
At  this  rate  the  standard  dollar  of  371  grains,  is  really  worth 
78  8-8  cents.  It  will  never  be  worth  more.  All  laws  of  Con- 
gress that  it  shall  be,  are  as  futile  as' a  law  that  a  pound  of  iron 
shall  be  worth  a  pound  of  copper,  or  as  the  pope's  bull  against 
the  comet. 

*The  ounce  of  silver  has  since  declined  obstinately  to  84  cents. 


ECONOMIC  EFFECTS  OF  THE  FORMER  LABOR 

SYSTEM  OF  THE  SOUTHERN  UNTIED 

STATES. 


1894. 


Tlie  fiiriu-c  iiuisr  learn  diietly  from  the  experieuce  of  the 
past.  There  is  no  truth  better  established  in  science,  than  this: 
That  every  fact  and  every  law  may  have  future  value  from, 
some  useful  application,  perhaps  wholly  unforeseen.  The  wise 
scientific  man.  therefore,  carefulh'  stores  up  every  authentic 
discovery,  like  the  experienced  housholder;  in  the  confidence 
that  it  will  be  useful  at  a  future  day,  though  now  apparently 
useless.  The  circumstance  that  this  fact  formerly  existed  in 
conditions  not  likely  to  be  ever  again  exactly  renewed,  does  by 
no  means  show  it  valueless.  It  may  prove  a  valuable  guide 
under  new  and  unexpected  conditions. 

The  labor-system  o'f  the  South  before  A.  D.  I860,  is  a  thing 
of  the  past.  Xearly  a  generation  has  lived  since  it  was  abolish- 
ed. It  is  time  that  the  political  emotions  which  once  associated 
themselves  with  it  were  quieted.  This  seems  a  suitable  season, 
therefore,  after  the  smoke  of  contest  has  evaporated,  and  yet, 
before  the  data  and  the  witnesses  for  the  investigation  have 
perished,  to  ascertain  its  real  economic  effects. 

This  inquiry  should  'be  kept  carefully  separate  from  the 
social  and  the  moral  questions  touching  that  system  of  labor. 
It  is  fully  assumed,  that  wealth  is  not  the  only  end,  nor  the 
highest  end,  which  a  commonwealth  or  a  nation  should  pursue. 
The  truth,  that  a  given  social  system  is  the  most  lucrative  does 
not  prove  it  unjust.  The  single  point  to  be  pursued  in  this  in- 
quiry is:  What  really  were  the  economic  results  of  the  sys- 
tem which  has  passed  away?  And  this  point  is  sought  onh' 
for  the  light  it  is  capable  of  shedding  on  future  economic  prob- 

354 


i^ORMER  LABOR  SYSTEM  OF  THE  SOUTHERN  U.  S.         355 

lems,  vvhicii  may  meet  our  poster! ty.  Of  course,  science  looks 
ouly  at  premises  and  conclusions,  considering-  only  whether 
the  former  are  ?:rounded  in  authentic  facts;  and  the  latter  are 
logically  drawn.  The  inquirer  has  nothing  to  do  with  precon- 
ceptions and  inclinations,  for  or  against  the  system  examined. 
The  main  premises  of  any  valuable  conclusions  here,  are  tlie 
facts.  Theories  and  hypotheses  are  of  nj  account,  in  the  face 
of  the  facts.  The  chief  reliance  must  be  upon  the  actual  re- 
sults, as  revealed  by  the  authorized  statistics  of  labor  and  pro- 
duction. And  these  will  be  found  to  demonstrate,  when  exam- 
ined from  the  various  points  of  view,  a  cumulative  proof,  that 
the  Southern  labor-systenr  was  comparatively  much  the  more 
productive  of  wealth  and  accumulated  capital. 

It  may  be  well  to  define  clearly  in  the  outset,  what  that 
labor-system  was,  commonly  known  as  domestic  slavery  of  Af- 
ricans. He  who  persists  in  viewing  and  treating  it  as  virtually 
the  same  with  the  system  which  bore  the  equivalent  name  in 
pagan  Greece  and  Rome,  cannot  possibly  understand  what  the 
ir^outhern  sj'stem  reall}'  was.  It  may  be  true  that  ''Aristotle" 
(Politics)  "can  be  quoted,  defining  a  Sofhi-  or  slave  as  jpf/zo 
i/zi/'ivvi'  "^'11  animated  utensil  ';  or  that  modern  assailants 
may  declare  the  African  in  the  South  was  made  by  law  "a 
mere  thing,-'  "a  chattel."  But  every  fair  observer  knows  that 
in  the  South,  essential  changes  from  that  unjust  and  harsh  sys- 
tem were  made  by  Iaw%  which,  while  for  convenience  sake, 
leaving  the  name  of  slave,  made  the  relation  to  the  master  es- 
sentially a  different  one.  So  far  did  the  laws  of  the  South  go 
from  treating  the  African  in  'bondage  as  a  mere  thing,  owned 
by  the  master  absolutely;  those  laws  treated  the  bondsman  as 
a  responsible  moral  aj?ent,  personally  amenable  to  statute 
laws,  and  encouraged  and  warned  by  its  sanctions:  they  pro- 
tected his  life,  limbs,  Sabbath  and  chastity,  against  violenae 
even  from  his  own  master:  and  that  by  the  same  statutes,  and 
the  same  penalties  which  protected  these  rights  of  white  per- 
sons: they  gave  to  the  bondman  a  legal  title,  as  against  his. 
own  master's  estate,  and  even  against  his  master's  personal 
earnings  or  professional  salary,  to  a  laboring  man's  subsist- 
ence for  life:  the}'  enabled  him,  if  not  legally  held  in  constraint, 
to  sue  his  own  master  at  the  law,  for  his  liberty.  What  then 
remained  to  the  master,  of  the  prerogatives  of  a  master?    This 


356         FORMER  LABOR  SYSTEM  OF  THE  SOUTH KRN  U.  S. 

only:  Property  in  the  involuntary  labor  of  the  African,  for 
life,  subject  to  the  bondsman's  right  of  subsistence,  and  such 
control  of  his  person  and  services  only  as  was  necessary  to 
possess  that  title.  The  Constitution  of  the  United  States,  the 
supreme  law  of  the  land,  and  the  work  of  the  greatest  jurists 
and  statesmen  of  America,  has  cut  off  all  debate  as  to  how' 
much  and  how  little  was  lawfully  meant  by  the  relation,  in 
giving  us  an  exact  definition,  in  words  perfectly  clear-cut  and 
appropriate.  These  Africans  were  described  as,  '-Persons  held 
to  labor  or  service  in  any  t^tate"  (meaning:  so  held  by  regular 
law  of  that  State). 

So,  Sir  William  Blackstone  defined  the  bondage  which  ex- 
isted in  his  day  (notwithstanding  Lord  Mansfield's  famous  de- 
cision in  the  Somerset  case),  by  law  in  England  and  all  her 
f'olonies.  as  a  title  to  another  person's  involuntary  labor,  which, 
while  a  title  for  life,  was  no  more  in  its  nature,  than  that  of  the 
master  to  the  labor  of  his  indentured  apprentice.  So  Dr.  Paley, 
in  his  moral  and  political  philosophy.  AVe  have  nothing  to  do 
then,  with  discussing  the  economic  results  of  a  pagan  system 
of  slavery,  never  known  for  a  moment  in  civilized  America, 
which  dehumanized  the  rational  human  agent  into  a  "thing 
a  mere  ''chattel."  The  system  we  have  to  examine  was  as  a 
labor  system;  the  subjection  of  the  labor,  for  life,  of  a  certain 
alien  and  savage  population  defined  by  the  law,  irrespective 
of  their  optional  consent,  to  the  heads  of  white,  free  families, 
in  a  domestic  government  of  the  master;  but  under  the  limits 
and  restraints  of  civil  law.  What  were  the  economic  results 
of  this  vigorous  expedient,  to  which  the  Southern  States  re- 
sorted in  order  to  protect  themselves  from  the  evils  of  the 
presence  of  this  savage  population?  A  presence  which  had 
not  been  elected  by  those  States,  but  forced  on  them,  wlijile 
colonies,  against  their  choice,  by  the  slave  trading  laws  of 
England  and  Xew  England.  Let  the  reader  observe  in  pass- 
ing that  nothing  more  is  needed  than  this  correct  definitiou  of 
the  relation,  to  make  an  end  of  the  boastful  argument  of  th^e 
Abolitionist.  He  argues  that  the  relation  was  always  and  es- 
sentially wicked.  The  only  premise  which  can  furnish  even  a 
pretence  for  this  conclusion  is  the  following:  That  any  hu- 
man being's  i)roperty  in  the  involuntary  labor  of  another  hu 
man  must  be  always  and  essentially  wicked.    But  when  this 


FORMER  LABOR  SYSTEM  OF  THE  SOUTHERN  U.  S.         357 

is  dragfjed  into  the  light,  its  falsehood  at  ouce  appears  both; 
monstrous  and  ridiculous.  The  parental  relation  clothes  the 
parent  with  property  in  the  involuntary  labor  of  the  child. 
The  business  relation  clothes  the  employer  with  property  in 
the  involuntary  labor  of  the  apprentice.  The  marital  relation 
may  clothe  the  wife  with  property  in  th»  involuntary  labor  of 
the  husband.  There  is  not  a  legitimate  government  on  earth 
that  does  not  clothe  the  rulers  with  property  in  the  involun- 
tary labor  of  the  citizens.  What  else  is  the  right  to  tax,  to 
exact  military  service?  Thus  this  heady  argument,  which  has 
incited  to  a  frightful  civil  war,  to  the  murder  of  a  million  of 
men  and  to  the  final  destruction  of  a  free  constitution,  is  fjund 
to  be  nothing  but  the  blind  pressing  of  a  false  issue.  The  evil 
thing  which  Abolitionism  professed  to  attack  had  no  existence 
except  in  its  own  slanderous  accusations. 

Another  caution  must  be  observed,  in  a  fair  examination 
of  this  question.  The  productiveness  of  a  given  system  may 
be  partly  determined  by  the  features  of  the  system  itself;  and 
partly  by  the  personal  traits  of  the  people  managed  under  it; 
as  the  eflficiency  of  a  given  army  in  the  field  depends  partly  on 
the  system  of  arming  and  drill,  and  partly  on  the  "personnel" 
and  morale  of  the  race  from  which  the  ranks  are  filled.  Now, 
a  la'bor-system,  as  such,  should  not  be  held  responsible  for  the 
initial  state  of  barbarity,  ignorance,  laziness,  ineptness,  and 
general  unthrift,  of  the  persons  first  delivered  to  it  to  be  by  it 
employed. 

The  necessity  of  employing  such  instruments  as  the  savage 
Africans  were,  may  have  prejudiced  the  results  of  a  better 
labor-system  in -a  comparison  with  some  worse  system,  which 
has  the  good  fortune  to  employ  civilized,  etficient,  trained  la- 
bor at  the  outset.  And  if  the  former,  in  spite  of  this  disad- 
vantage, yet  produce  large  results,  while  it  improved  the  la- 
bor and  morale  of  its  sorry  instruments:  this  would  be,  to  the 
thoughtful  mind,  the  most  splendid  evidence  of  its  efficiency  as 
a  system. 

A  verv  slight  acquaintance  with  the  science  of  economics 
teaches,  that  little  can  be  learned  by  a  general  and  cursory  view 
of  societies  and  comparison  of  their  aspects.  Yet  many  have 
argued  that  the  Southern  labor-system  must  be  eeonomicallj 
h"(^   because  they  found  more  of  the  surface  a])pearnn('es  of 


8p8    FORMER  LABOR  SYSTEM  OF  THE  SOUTHERN  U.  S. 

wealth,  in  the  Euvope  and  America  of  tbe  nineteenth  century, 
as  large  cities,  splendid  mansions,  lavish  expenditures,  and 
princely  incomes,  in  hireling;  societies  than  in  slaveholding; 
more  in  England  than  in  Jamaica;  or  more  in  New  York  than 
in  Virginia.  But  several  facts  must  be  remembered:  of  which 
one  is:  That  in  modern  times,  the  slave-holding  societies,  in 
every  case,  had  been  made,  in  one  way  or  another,  industrially 
tributary  to  the  hireling.  The  West-Indian  and  South  Ameri- 
can settlements  were  colonies  to  Great  Britain,  France,  Spain, 
Portugal,  Denmark,  or  Holland;  and  their  industries  were  by 
law  subjected  to  restrictive  systems,  designed  to  transfer  a 
large  part  of  their  earnings  to  the  home  traders.  The  South- 
ern States,  between  the  end  of  the  revolutionary  war  and  1789, 
the  admitted  leaders  in  wealth  and  progress,  no  sooner  entered 
the  Federal  Fnion.  than  their  industries  also  were  made  tribu- 
tary, by  bounty,  navigation,  tariff,  and  financial  enactments  of 
Congress,  to  their  hir(^ling-labor  partners.  Thus,  there  has 
been  no  example,  not  injuriously  meddled  with,  by  which  it 
could  be  shown  how  profitable  the  Southern  system  would  be 
when  it  had  a  fair  chance?  It  can  never  be  determined  which 
of  two  hives  of  bees  is  most  productive  in  honey-making  while 
the  bees  of  one  hive  are  regularly  empowered  to  rifle  every  re- 
turning worker  of  the  other  hive,  of  a  part  of  his  sweets.  Both 
the  tendencies  of  the  hireling  cammunities  in  America,  and  of 
the  Federal  policy  towards  those  States,  were  more  favorable 
than  the  Southern  system  to  gathering  a  larger  portion  of 
their  people  into  towns.  But  any  populous  town,  whatever  the 
goodness  or  badness  of  its  labor-system,  tends  to  stimulate 
ornamental  agriculture  around  its  suburbs.  One  only  of  the 
influences  need  (be  mentioned.  Most  Americans,  when  enriched 
by  traffic,  vehemently  desire  the  amusements  and  boast  of  an 
ornamented,  suburban  farm,  or  villa.  The  products  of  these, 
evoked  by  lavish  outlay  of  labor  and  manure,  never  equal  their 
cost.  Probably  every  ton  of  hay  from  the  model  farm  has  cost 
tlie  price  of  a  ton  and  a  half  to  produce  it;  every  boasted  pound 
of  golden  butter  has  cost  two  pounds.  But  now.  while  these 
lavish  toys  of  "merchant  princes"  spread  a  pleasing  zone  of 
culture  and  apparent  fertility  around  each  pompous  city,  they 
are  in  no  sense  productive  industry:  no  more  so  than  the  lemons 
which  the  lady-wives  have  ripened  in  their  conservatories,  at 


FORMER  LABOR  SYSTEM  OF  THE  SOUTHERN  U.  S,    359 

the  cost  of  a  dollar  for  each  lemon,  worth  half  a  dime.  The 
more  any  society  has  of  these  toy-farms,  the  more  is  its  ag- 
gregate wealth  wasted.  If  the  admiring  tourist  would  go  to 
the  more  retired  parts  of  the  regions  tributary  to  this  city,  he 
would  soon  see,  in  the  "nakedness  of  the  land."  or  in  the  hard- 
ships of  its  poor,  the  proof  of  that  proposition.  But  as  it  is, 
the  European  abserves,  landing  at  Boston,  and  journeying 
thence  to  Marblehead,  to  Xew  Providence,  to  New  Haven,  to 
Xew  York,  to  Newark,  to  New  Brunswick,  to  Elizabeth,  to 
Trenton,  to  Philadelphia,  to  Chester,  to  Wilmington  (Dela- 
ware), scarcely  gets  out  of  one  artificial  suburban  or  zone,  un- 
til he  enters  another.  He  leaps  to  the  conclusion,  that  these 
hireling  States  are  all  in  a  state  of  splendid  prosperity.  Should 
he  then  continue  his  journey  past  Baltimore,  to  Washington, 
to  Richmond,  and  the  farther  Southern  iStates,  the  Atlantic 
border  so  expands  itself  in  its  geographical  configuration,  in- 
stead of  the  crowded  convexity  of  the  region  he  has  passed 
over,  and  the  cities  are  so  few  and  small,  that  the  bare  spaces 
of  the  unadorned  continent  appear  largely.  Each  Southern 
city  has  also  its  zone  of  fictitious  wealth;  but  they  are  far  apart: 
the  eye  of  the  unfriendly  tourist  prefers  to  rest  on  the  poorer 
inter-spaces:  he  convinces  himself  that  these  States  are  poor. 
He  has  taken  but  a  partial,  and  therefore  a  deceptive,  view. 

Nobody  can  be  blind  to  the  natural  differences  made  by 
the  Creator,  between  favored  and  slighted  districts,  as  to  na- 
tural soil  and  climate.  Let  the  alluvial  plain  of  Lombardy  be 
compared  with  the  bleak  sand  and  pine  barrens  of  old  Brand- 
enberg:  Is  there  on  earth  a  tougher,  more  hardy,  diligent,  sav- 
ing peasantry  than  that  of  Brandenberg,  and  is  not  their  farm- 
ing guided  by  the  best  science  in  Europe?  But  all  this  can 
only  keep  alive  on  that  hungr3-  soil,  under  that  harsh  climate, 
a  starveling  appearance  of  tillage,  which  is  pitiful  beside  the 
smiling  abundance  of  the  Po  alluvium.  Here  are  natural  dis- 
advantages, which  no  virtue  of  any  labor-system  can  equalize 
or  compensate.  Now,  it  has  been  said  a  thousand  times:  that 
the  old  Atlantic  slave  States  had  a  great  advantage  in  the  na- 
tive fertility  of  their  soils;  but  that  these  fat  fields  have  been 
skinned  and  impoverished  by  the  'bad  system  of  labor.  Both 
parts  of  this  statement  have  always  been  simply  false.  The 
lands  which,  in  Virginia  and  the  Carolinas,  showed  poverty  in 


360    FORMER  LABOR  SYSTEM  OF  THE  SOUTHERN  U.  8. 

1860,  had  always  been  poor.  They  had  never  been  made  poor, 
but  were  born  poor.  The  uphmds  of  the  old  Atlantic  water- 
shed, which  are  the  vastly  larger  part  of  that  area,  are  natural- 
ly thin  and  barren  at  their  Northern,  and  their  Southern  ends. 
They  were  poor  in  New  England.  The  part  embraced  in  the 
old  Middle  States,  from  the  Hudson  to  the  Potomac,  were  na- 
turally the  best.  In  Virginia  they  began  to  deteriorate,  and 
the  natural  average  became  worse  and  worse,  as  they  ap- 
proached the  Gulf.  Florida  being  the  poorest  of  all.  In  the 
one  great  Illinois  bottom  oppo.site  St.  Louis  and  Southern  Mis- 
souri, there  is  more  fertile  mould  than  nature  ever  gave  to  all 
Eastern  Virginia,  or  either  Carolina.  When  the  really  rich 
virgin  soils  of  the  great  Mississippi  valley  were  opened  to  cul- 
tivation, the  new  States  had  an  advantage  for  production  and 
the  accumulation  of  capital,  which  statistics  can  hardly  ex- 
press. How  ought  that  industry,  which  yields  fifty  or  sixty- 
bushels  of  maize  per  acre,  without  manure,  to  outrun  that 
which,  with  the  same  labor  of  cultivation,  yields,  without  ma- 
nure, ten  bushels?  Such  was  and  is  the  virgin  strength  of  the 
larger  part  of  the  upland  area  of  the  old  Southern  States.  Sd 
far  as  any  criterion  could  be  found,  of  the  relative  advantage 
of  the  Southern  System,  from  observing  the  face  of  the  coun- 
try, the  simple  facts  were,  in  1860,  these:  The  African  labor 
was  holding  its  place  as  the  preferable  labor,  in  every  district 
of  every  Southern  State  where  it  had  ever  had  foothold,  be- 
sides extensive  and  profitable  emigration  to  new  regions.  It' 
was  steadily  making  its  way  into  those  fertile  parts  of  the 
Southern  States  once  tilled  by  white,  hireling  labor;  because 
found  practically  more  profitable.  The  whole  area  of  the  old 
South  was  in  a  rapid  and  splendid  state  of  reparation  and  im- 
provement: even  the  thin  land  described,  which  never  had  any 
fertility  to  lose,  coming  rapidly  up  to  profitable  tillage.  And 
I  he  few  bauds  and  islets  of  really  strong  land  presented,  in 
1S60.  the  most  magnificent  tillage  and  the  largest  crops  seen  in 
any  of  the  old  States. 

Let  it  be  distinctly  understood,  that  these  general  views 
are  not  advanced  as  the  conclusive  prjofs  of  the  good  results 
of  the  system.  That  proof  will  be  given  below,  in  the  authen- 
tic testimony  of  the  government  itself,  and  in  solid  facts  of- 
ficially attested.    The  objects  of  the  above  views  are  simply 


FORMER  LABOR  SYSTEM  OF  THE  SOUTHERN  U.  S.    361 

preliminary:  to  clear  away  from  the  reader's  iniud  presumptive 
impressions  against  the  truth:  to  rebut  by  more  accurate  and 
impartial  views,  the  prejudices  excited  against  the  witness  we 
are  about  to  introduce,  through  false  first  impressions.  One  of 
these  impressions,  much  relied  on.  is  the  appearance  of  exten- 
sive exhausted  fields  in  the  South.  It  has  been  unhesitatingly 
claimed  that  slavery  was  the  cause;  that  an  exhausting  cultiva- 
tion is  the  proof  of  its  bad  economic  etfeet.  The  one  answer 
has  been  already  given:  that  many  of  these  lands  could  not 
justly  be  said  to  be  exhausted  by  any  cause,  inasmuch,  they 
were  naturally  so  poor  as  to  have  almost  no  fertility  to  lose. 
But  there  were  districts  in  the  South  which,  before  the  splen- 
did recuperation  of  1845-1860,  effectuated  under  slave  labor, 
had  been  in  an  exhausted  condition. 

Now  if  the  same  result  be  found  in  several  other  districts 
where  slavery  never  existed,  the  argument  is  ruined.  The  same 
result  has.  in  fact,  been  found  in  every  district  of  America, 
where  these  two  circumstances  concurred;  the  possession  of  a 
profitable  staple  saleable  in  large  quantities,  and  sufticiemt 
proximity  to  market.  In  any  country,  and  under  ever}"  system 
of  labor,  if  new  land  is  cheaply  accessible,  this  result  follows 
tsee  John  Stewart  Mill.  Political  Economy.  Book  I.  chaptei' 
12 ».  The  profitable  staple  tempts  the  first  generation  of  land- 
owners to  exhausting  cultivation.  They  su}»pose  that  it  is  more 
gainful  to  exhaust  the  land,  and  take  up  other  fields  new  and 
cheap,  than  to  manure  the  old.  This  cause  has  regularly  pro- 
duced exhaustion  in  the  hireling  States,  as  in  the  South.  Thus 
ninety  years  ago.  New  England  farmers  went  to  the  calcar- 
eous lands  of  Vermont  to  raise  wheat.  They  pressed  their 
gainful  staple,  but  exhausted  their  soil.  To-day  those  old 
wheat  farms  are  sheep  pastures,  and  the  shepherds  scarcely 
raise  their  own  flour.  Fifty  years  ago  the  second  generation 
of  these  Vermont  wheat  growers  emigrated  from  their  exhaust- 
ed farms  to  the  (renesee  country  of  West  New  V  ti-k  to  raise 
wheat.  They  reaped  forty  bushels  per  acre,  from  the  virgin 
soil;  but  they  pressed  the  skinning  process,  until  the  average 
product  fell  below  twelve  bushels  per  acre.  Then  the  next' 
generation  went  to  Ohio,  and  skinned  the  apparently  exhaust- 
less  lands  of  that  State,  the  boast  of  this  school  of  economists: 
until   the  remorseless  truthfulness  of  census-returns  showed, 


362    FuKMER  LABUR  SYSTEM  OF  THE  SOUTHERN  U.  S. 

that  Oliio  was  yielding  an  average  of  only  eight  and  a  half 
bushels.  And  naw  the  fourth  generation  are  skinning  the  fat 
prairies  of  Iowa  and  Nebraska.  Another  argument  has  been 
flaimed  from  the  recuperation  of  production  within  the  last 
twenty  years  in  the  subjugated  States.  The  exclamation  is: 
Behold  here,  what  the  South  gains  'by  getting  rid  of  her  bad 
economic  system  of  labor.  Some  SDUtherners  even,  have  been 
shallow  enough  to  echo  it;  because,  poor  fellows,  they  had 
been  so  accustomed,  for  the  first  fifteen  years  of  their  subjuga- 
tion, to  desperate  poverty  and  hopelessly  unremunerated  ef- 
fort, that  any  degree  of  increase  boks  splendid  in  their  eyes: 
blinded  to  the  past  by  the  tears  of  despair.  The  latter,  partial 
return  of  progress  in  production  is.  indeed,  a  magnificent  tes- 
timony to  the  temper  and  pluck  of  the  ex-slaveholders:  in  that 
under  a  system  sj  adverse  as  the  present  they  could  ever  restore 
any  progress  at  all.  But  we  meet  with  a  flat  denial,  the  as- 
sertion that  industrial  progress,  and  tlie  growth  of  new  capital 
now^  presents  any  such  comparative  ratio  to  that  of  the  old  sys- 
tem, as  to  prove  the  supposed  point.  Between  1840  and  1860, 
Virginia,  an  old  State  pursuing  mainly  other  staples  than 
wheat,  increased  her  wheat  crop  from  ten  to  thirteen  million 
bushels,  and  her  tobacco  from  fifty-six  to  one  hundred  and 
twenty-four  millions  of  pounds  I  This  progress  was  under  her 
old  system  of  labor.  Her  wheat  and  t3bacco  crops  up  to  1880, 
under  the  new  system,  were  restored  only  to:  wheat,  7,826,174 
bushels,  and  tobacco,  79,988,868  pounds.  Only  one  other  fact 
is  necessary.  Between  1850  and  1860  the  cotton  crdj).  pecu- 
liarly and  exclusively  the  product  of  the  Southern  system,  grew 
fr3m  two  and  a  half  million  bales,  to  five  and  a  half  millions: 
an  increase  of  110  per  cent,  in  ten  years.  Let  it  now  be  remem- 
bered that  in  1860  the  cotton  raising  States  had  but  seven  and 
a  half  millions  of  people.  Xow  they  have  about  seventeen  mil- 
lions. 

But  since  1860,  thirty  years  ago,  this  larger  population, 
under  hireling  labor,  has  only  raised  the  crop  of  1894  ta  ten 
million  bales.  A  phenomenal  crop?  Here  is  progress:  progress 
gratifying  to  a  conquered  and  despoiled  people:  but  it  is  a 
sorry  showing  as  compared  with  that  of  the  aid  system.  Leav- 
ing out  the  years  of  the  war,  a  similar  ratio  of  progress  would 
have  given  us  in  1894  fiftv-two  millions  of  bales  instead  of  the 


FORMER  LABOR  SYSTEM  OF  THE  SOUTHERN"  U.  S.         363 

actual  ten  iiiillioii.  This  calciilatiou,  of  course,  discounts  the  re- 
pressive power  of  au  overstocked  market.  No  economist  chiims 
for  the  sratisrics  of  a  census,  entire  accuracy.  But  it  is  pre- 
sumable tliar  omissions  and  inaccuracies  virtually  balance 
each  other,  when  a  comparative  view  is  carefully  deduced  be- 
tween two  sections.  If,  for  instance,  our  appraisement  of  the 
cash  value  of  a  given  product  which  is  reported  in  bushels  or 
tons,  should  be  somewhat  too  low,  or  too  high,  no  comparative 
error  results,  because  that  product  in  both  sections  has  been 
appraised  at  the  same  price:  so  that  the  one  section  gains  or 
loses  by  any  possible  error  of  price,  precisely  in  proportion  to 
the  other.  But  in  all  important  particulars,  the  advantage  in 
the  following  estimates  has  been  intentionally  given  to  the  hire- 
ling States.  The  two  following  instances  will  explain  this.  The 
wheat  crops  are  given  in  bushels.  It  is  well  known  to  mer- 
chants, that  the  average  price  of  a  bushel  of  Southern  wheat 
was  considerably"  more,  in  any  year,  than  of  the  Northwestern 
wheat,  which  furnishes  always  the  main  bulk  of  that  crop  in 
the  hireling  States:  because  it  comes  into  an  earlier  market, 
because  it  is  more  flinty  and  mature,  and  thus  makes  a  flour 
worth  often  half  as  much  again  for  export,  and  because  the 
Southern  crop  includes  no  spring  wheat;  always  inferior  to 
the  winter  wheat.  Yet,  in  estimating  the  value  of  wheat,  both 
in  1850  and  18G(),  the  same  price  was  allowed  for  all  Northern, 
as  for  Southern  wheat.  Thus  the  advantage  of  many  millions 
of  dollars  was  allowed  to  the  hireling  system.  The  other  in- 
stance is  our  unquestioning  acceptance  of  the  census-estimates 
of  personal  property  at  the  North. 

The  nature  of  Northern  pursuits  has  unquestionably  pro- 
duced a  vastly  larger  development  of  that  class  of  so-called  val- 
ues, known  as  credits,  or  securities,  at  the  North,  than  at  the 
South.  These  credits  are  named  as  personal  property:  art^  sub- 
ject to  taxation  and  are  always  counted  by  men  in  estimating 
their  wealth.  They  are.  of  course,  listed  as  personal  property 
by  the  census,  and  by  the  tax  assessor,  except  that  enormous 
fortune  concealed  by  fraud. 

But  many  of  them  are  not  values.  When  the  capital  stock 
of  a  railroad,  which  actually  expended  nni  millions  in  its  plant, 
is  swelled  by  ''watering"  to  twenty  millions,  however  these  fic- 
titious shares  may  sell,  or  may  pay  dividends,  they  represent 


364        FORMER  LABOR  SYSTEM  OF  THE  SOUTHERN  U.  S. 

110  real  values:  tliey  are  only  an  artifice  for  levying  a  gratuitous 
lien,  and  exacting  a  roibber  tax  on  all  the  real  industry  wliicli 
seeks  transportation  on  the  road.  When  an  owner  of  real  es- 
tate sells  land  on  credit  and  takes  the  purchaser's  bond  no 
value  is  created  by  that  transaction,  ^yas  the  land  worth  ten 
thousand  dollars?  There  is  now  the  land,  taxable  in  the  pur- 
chaser's hands  at  ten  thousand  dollars  of  value:  and  there  is 
the  bond,  taxable  in  the  vendor's  hands,  as  another  ten  thou- 
sand. Each  man  counts  the  amount.  The  tax-assessor  counts 
it  twice;  but  not  a  dollar  of  value  exists,  as  yet,  beyond  the 
ten  thousand.  Those  who  argue  the  reality  of  the  fictitious, 
credit  value,  ask:  Is  this  bond  worth  nothing  to  the  holder? 
■Cannot  it  be  sold  at  par,  if  secured  by  mortgage  on  the  land? 
Sued  for?  Bequeathed?  Surely  it  is  a  real  value!  But  the 
stubborn  answer  is:  Whence  has  any  real  value  been  created? 
The  land,  the  only  original  value,  is  now  in  the  purchaser's 
hand:  and  clearly  value  can  not  be  created  by  exchanging  a 
piece  of  paper.  The  explanation  which  these  economists  over- 
look is  very  simple.  There  are  rights,  which  may  grow  into 
values  only.  But  rights  may  be  sold,  bequeathed,  held  by  law. 
When  a  great  commercial  crash  comes,  like  that  of  1873,  this 
species  of  wealth  vanishes  by  hundreds  of  millions.  How  is 
this?  There  is  no  way  in  which  actual  values  have  been  used 
or  consumed,  no  fire,  flood,  shipwreck,  w^ar  exportation,  de- 
vouring of  an3'thing.  Literally  no  process  of  consumption  of 
values  known  to  political  economy  has  taken  place;  but  sud- 
denly thousands  of  people  are  poorer  by  millions.  The  ex- 
planation is,  that  the  credits  destroyed  by  the  ''panic''  never  had 
been  aetual,  but  only  potential  values.  They  never  actually 
existed  as  values:  no  value  has  been  actually  destroyed.  The 
only  diminution  of  real  values  or  wealth  which  the  panic  has 
caused  is  the  depreciation  of  prices  of  such  possessions  as  are 
real  commodities. 

Now,  in  the  appraisement  of  values,  it  is  notorious  that 
the  lists  of  the  hireling  States  contained  many-  more  hundreds 
of  millions  of  credits  than  those  of  the  Southern  States.  These 
States  were  mainly  agricultural;  their  trading  towns  were 
i-clativelyfew  and  small ;and  the  species  of  "business"  so-called, 
and  speculations,  by  which  these  credits  are  nominally  inflated, 
were  comparatively  unknown  among  them  up  to  1860.     But 


I'ORMeII  LAfeOi?  SYSTEM  Oi'  tHE  SOUTHERN  tJ.  8.         M^ 

we  have  made  no  deduction  against  the  hireling  States  on  rlii^i 
ground:  a  large  advantage  has  been  all  awed  them  in  the  com 
parison.  Before  185(1,  the  census  returns  had  scarcely  been 
taken  on  so  comprehensive,  or  digested  on  so  scientific  a  scale, 
as  to  make  their  testimony  decisive.  After  18(50  the  Southern 
system  no  more  had  any  existence  during  a  census  year.  Hence 
our  comparisons  are  justly  limited  to  the  years  1850  and  18(30: 
and  these  are  enough.  The  testimony  of  the  government  it- 
self, then  is  as  follows. 

In  1850  the  total  appraised  values  of  the  Southern  States 
were  |2,900,604,589  to  9,318,924  total  population;  subtracting 
3.201,818  slaves:  (),118,921  whites.  If  this  aggregate  were  di- 
vided among  the  whites  per  capita,  it  would  give  possessions 
averaging  |472  per  head  to  the  whites.  Or  if  it  be  insisted  that 
the  negroes  shall  be  counted  among  the  population,  we  had 
|810  per  head  for  white  and  black.  Or,  else:  if  we  yield  to  (un- 
fair) assertion  that,  in  this  comparison,  the  property  in  the  la- 
bor of  slaves  shall  not  count  for  anything:  we  then  deduct  the 
whole,  appraising  all,  men,  women,  children,  and  decrepit  at 
|250  per  head,  which  is  a  high  estimate  for  1850;  and  we  have 
left  a  property  of  |355  per  soul  for  each  Southerner.  In  1850 
the  hireling  States  had  thirteen  and  a  half  millions  of  souls, 
and  the  appraised  possessions  of  all  kinds  were  |3,621,011,661. 
Each  soul  then  had  an  average  of  |270.  This  gives  the  super- 
ior riches  to  the  fc?outh,  by  |85  per  head,  if  we  strip  the  South- 
erners of  all  property  in  the  labor  of  the  Africans;  although 
hundreds  of  millions  of  dollars  of  actually  realized  and  paid 
up  capital  had  been  paid  by  them  for  that  species  of  property. 
If  the  Africans  are  counted  as  property,  then  the  average  South- 
erner was  richer  by  |202.  In  18()0  the  Soutli  had  twelve  mil- 
lions of  people,  includiug  not  cpiite  four  millions  of  Africans. 
Her  appraised  values  were  |(J,74(>,34:i,T(;i,  an  increase  of  more 
than  double  in  ten  years.  The  liireling  States  with  eighteen 
and  four-fifths  millions  of  souls,  presented  a  total  of  |9,257,9G4,- 
000,  The  North  had  received  from  foreign  emigrations  an  an- 
nual accession  of  several  hundred  thousand  people  more  than 
the  South,  estimated  to  have  brought  them,  besides  their  per- 
sons and  labor,  an  average  of  |1,000  each  in  cash.  Still  the 
relative  major  wealth  was  with  the  South;  each  white  soul 
having  1831,  as  against  |490  to  each  soul  in  the  North.     Or, 


366    FORMEK  LABOR  SYSTEM  OF  THE  SOUTHERN  tT.  g. 

if  file  unfair  dediu-rioiis  be  insisted  on.  of  all  propei'ty  in  the 
labor  of  the  Africans,  eaeh  ir^outherner  still  had  $637,  as  against 
the  Northern  average  of  |490  per  head.  And  the  deduction  is 
here  made  at  the  liberal  rate  of  |400  for  each  soul  of  the  Afri- 
cans, their  market  value  having  risen  in  ten  years.  Or,  if  the 
division  of  the  Sauthern  total  be  made  between  the  whole  pop- 
ulation, including  all  the  Africans,  there  was  still  an  average 
of  1560  per  head,  against  |490  at  the  North. 

Or,  let  another  view  be  inspected.  In  1860  the  hireling 
States  reared  of  the  cereals  used  by  Americans  as  human  food, 
five  hundred  and  sixty-one  millions  of  bushels,  and  the  South- 
ern vStates  four  hundred  and  ninety-four  millions.  That  is,  the 
hireling  system  gave  each  of  its  sauls  about  thirty  bushels;  but 
the  Southern  system  gave  each  of  its  souls  forty-one  bushels. 
Moreover,  the  hireling  States  boasted  in  these  cereals  as  their 
great  export  crops.  But  the  South,  after  feeding  every  one  of 
her  souls  one-fourth  more  liberally  than  the  hireling  States, 
must  have  had  proportional  surplus  for  export,  besides  her 
magnificent  totals  of  cotton  and  tobacco  I  Again,  of  the  do- 
mestic animals  used  hj  Americans  as  human  food  (horned  cat- 
tle, sheep  and  swine)  the  hireling  States  had  in  1860  about  forty 
millions,  or  a  little  more  than  two  per  soul  for  each  inhabitant: 
While  the  South  had  forty  and  a  half  millions,  or  about  three 
and  a  half  for  each  inhabitant.  But,  as  the  flesh  of  swine  is 
so  predominant  in  the  food  of  laboring  Americans,  it  will  be 
interesting  to  see  the  proportions  here.  The  hireling  States 
had  not  quite  twelve  millions  of  swine;  while  the  South  had 
twenty  millions  six  hundred  thousand.  The  hireling  system 
gave  each  mouth  a  little  more  than  six-tenths  of  one  swine  per 
annum;  while  the  Southern  system  gave  each  mouth  one  whole 
swine  and  seven-tenths  of  a  second..  But  this  does  not  tell  the 
whole  story.  A  part  of  the  hireling  States  were  very  large  ex- 
porters of  pork.  Sundry  of  the  Southern  States  were,  on  the 
contrary,  large  importers:  and  none  of  them  sent  away  any  ap- 
preciable export  of  it.  So  that  the  laboring  people  of  the  hire- 
ling States  must  have  been  dejtrived  by  export  of  quite  a  large 
portion  of  their  scanty  six-tenths  of  swine  per  mouth;  and  the 
Southern  laborer  must  have  eaten  that  portion,  and  all  his  one 
and  seven-tenths  besides.  Yet  the  cry  was:  The  African  was 
wronged  by  being  scantily  fed!    Again,  in  1860,  the  South,  with 


FORMkK  LABOH  StStEM  of  THE  SOUTHERN  tj.  S.         ^67 

a  little  iiioi'c  than  twelve  niillious  of  people,  had  8.SiH,7"jr) 
horses,  asses  and  iiiules.  The  hiieliui>-  States,  with  uot  quite 
nineteen  millions  of  people,  had  4,335.240.  Once  more:  the  an- 
nual earnings  of  the  hireling  States,  including  all  the  branches 
of  agriculture,  mining  and  manufactures,  and  the  whole  value 
of  live  stock  were  $08.(37  per  head  for  the  whole  population  in 
1850.  The  same  vear,  the  same  industries  in  the  South  yielded 
as  increase  fl08.25  for  every  soul,  including  the  Africans.  In 
1860,  the  earnings  of  the  hireling  States  amounted  to  only 
1101.44  for  each  soul;  but  in  the  S:iuth.  to  ^111.35  for  every 
soul,  including  the  Africans.  When  we  multiply  this  difference 
of  about  10  per  cent,  in  1850  and  of  16  per  cent,  in  1860  by  the 
twelve  millions  of  the  Southern  people,  it  makes  a  huge  dif- 
ference in  the  proportional  pritits.  in  favor  of  the  Southern 
system.  The  returns  of  1860  also  disclose  another  fact:  that 
successful  manufacturing  industries  were  at  that  time,  by  no 
means  confined  to  the  hireling  States.  It  is  true,  that  the 
South  was  prevalently  agricultural:  not  because  its  civiliza- 
tion, or  its  labor  system  was  ruder,  but  because  its  tastes  and 
interests  drew  it  by  an  enlightened  intluence,  in  that  direction. 
That  its  agricultural  preference  was  enlightened  is  demon- 
strated by  the  grand  fact,  testified  by  the  government  itself: 
that  its  profits  were  larger  than  those  of  the  other  States  work- 
ing on  a  sj'stem  m  )re  largely  manufacturing. 

The  South  knew  what  it  was  about.  Yet.  there  was  a  very 
large  development  of  successful  manufacturing  industry,  of 
which  the  rest  of  the  world  was  strongly  unobservant.  Some 
times,  the  instances  of  this  were  amusing.  In  1864  a  ''raid"  of 
a  cavalry  detachment  into  Virginia  reiiiulted  in  the  sack  of  two 
or  three  irDu-snielting  establishments  in  her  upper  counties.  A 
metropolitan  journal  in  Xew  York  thei'eupon  congratulated 
Mr.  Lincoln  at  this  vital  reduction  of  the  iron  I'esources  of  the 
Confederate  government  at  Richmond,  informing  the  w:irld 
that  Virginia  in  1860  had  had  six  furnaces  in  ()|»eration:  of 
whose  resources  one-third  was  now  extinguislied.  In  fact,  the 
one  county  of  Rockbridge  in  1860  had  more  than  12.  and  the 
adjoining  c  )uiify  of  Allegany  as  many!  In  18<i2.  (xeneral  T. 
J.  Jackson  learned  that  the  Confederate  war  department  was 
debating  tlie  policy  of  so  contracting  its  lines  of  defense  in  up- 
per Virginia,  as  to  leave  out  the  lower  Shenandoah  "Valley." 


i^6S         FORMER  LABOR  SYSTEM  OF  THE  SOUTHERN  U.  S. 

He  re(Hiest-ed  ilie  ('(»iijii-t'ssiiian.  rcinvsenriiiii-  tlic  rli.srrier  in 
Riclimoiia.  to  protest.  Tliis  gentleiiiau  said  to  the  administra- 
tion: "Consider  what,  in  such  a  contraction,  you  abandon,. 
For  instance,  among-  other  resources,  you  abandon,  in  my  con- 
gressional district  alone,  fourteen  woolen  factories,  which  pro- 
duce clothing  and  blankets  for  your  army."  But  the  general 
returns  of  the  Federal  government  itself  are  more  valuable. 
They  say  that  in  I860,  the  South  produced  by  manufacturing, 
values,  after  deducting  the  cost  of  raw  materials,  to  the 
amount  of  about  one  hundred  and  eighteen  millions.  The  hire- 
ling States  produced  in  the  same  way,  something  more  than 
five  hundred  and  thirty-six  millions.  The  latter  had  |28.21  of 
this  sort  of  vahies.  the  South  |9.64.  more  than  one-third  as 
much. 

Probably,  if  the  question  had  been  asked  in  1860,  or  last 
week,  of  the  "well  informed'"  Northern  man  or  European:  ''In 
what  ratio  do  you  suppose  the  manufacturing  industry  of  the 
great  North  exceeded  that  of  the  South?"'  his  guess  would  have 
been:  "In  the  ratio  of  fifty  to  one."'  The  boa.st  sounds  of  that 
largeness. 

The  bearing  of  these  attested  facts  on  our  argument  is  not 
seen  until  we  consider  how  the  legitimated  accumulations  of 
Southern  industry  were  systematically  transferred  to  the  North, 
after  they  were  earned,  'by  the  legislative  system  of  the  Federal 
government.  This  levying  of  commercial  tribute  on  our  indus- 
try began  almost  as  soon  as  the  government.  Washington's  first 
administration  had  not  ended,  before  Congress  had  assumed  a 
power,  of  which  the  makers  of  the  Constitution  were  not  dream- 
ing: to  incorporate  in  the  territory  of  State,  a  mammoth  bank 
of  circulation  and  discount,  which  it  made  its  exclusive  fiscal 
agent.  Thus,  at  one  unforeseen  touch,  the  advantage  of  dis- 
bursements and  credits  founded  on  the  privilege  of  handling 
the  assets  of  the  treasury  taken  by  taxation  from  all  the  people, 
was  taken  from  the  South,  the  payer  of  the  larger  taxes,  and 
given  to  the  North.  Then  under  the  pretext  of  fostering  a  sea- 
faring class  for  the  advantage  of  the  Federal  navy,  a  fishing 
bounty  was  established:  the  whole  of  which  from  the  foreseen 
force  of  circumstances,  went  to  the  North.  For  many  years 
before  1800  this  bounty  had  taken  out  of  the  people's  taxes  a 
million  and  a  half  annually.    Half  of  this  was  a  simple  transfer 


Former  labor  system  of  tfie  southekn,  u.  s.      360 

of  rile  Southei-u  e;n'nin<;s  into  Xorrlieni  pockets.  The  uexr  bur- 
(leu  was  the  eiiaetmeut  of  a  navigation  law:  precluding  all 
foreign  shipping  from  the  coast-carrying  trade.  It  did  not  suit 
the  tastes  and  interests  of  the  Southern  people  to  go  largely 
into  shipbuilding:  as  was  foreseen  and  intended,  the  lion's  share 
of  the  gains  of  this  monopoly  went  out  of  Southern  pockets  into 
Northern.  The  great  bulk  of  the  commodities  to  be  transported 
were,  up  to  1800,  of  Southern  production:  the  beneficiaries  of 
the  monopoh'  of  transportation  were  Northern. 

If  one  is  curious  to  know  the  scale  on  which  Southern  pro- 
duction has  been  taxed  by  this  monopoly,  for  nearly  a  hundred 
yi^ars,  he  has  only  to  look  into  the  commercial  news  of  the 
jtoi-t  of  (lalveston.  He  there  sees,  every  day,  freights  on  South- 
ern commodities  to  Europe  from  which  the  navigation  laws  do 
not  exclude  this  competition  taken  by  the  European  ships  for 
just  half  the  price  cliarged  by  Northern  ships  coastwise,  where 
they  are  armed  with  this  monopoly — that  is  to  say:  On  every 
product  of  her  industry,  which  the  South  desires  to  send  by 
water  to  another  American  market,  she  has  paid  (chiefly  io 
Northern  ships)  two  freight  charges  where  one  was  due. 

The  uext  method  of  depleting  our  industry  was  by  the  more 
liberal  dispensation  of  pensions,  and  moneys  for  light-houses, 
custom-houses,  and  other  Federal  buildings,  in  the  North.  It 
mattered  little  wlu^her  the  rolls  of  \\'ashington':s  army  in  the 
tield  showed  an  e(iual  number  of  Virginians  and  Carolinian 
men:  at  the  pension  oflfice  the  Northern  revolutionary  veterans 
always  had  a  grand  majority.  The  edifices  built  with  taxes, 
from  which  the  vicinage  always  manages  so  pretty  a  profit, 
were  plentifully  sprinkled  Northward:  sparce  and  humble 
Southward. 

But  the  gigantic  method  of  transfer  of  Southern  earnings 
into  Northern  pockets  is,  of  course,  the  protective  system,  dat- 
ting,  in  its  onerous  degrees,  from  about  1<S2().  Every  economist 
admits  the  inevitable  effect  of  protective  tariffs,  to  transfer 
fj-om  the  consumer  to  the  manufacturer,  a  second  profit,  in  ad- 
dition to  the  one  fairly  altaclitMl  to  the  production,  at  least 
ecjual  to  the  tai'ift"  on  the  commodity.  This  needs  no  argument, 
[f  the  j)rotected  producer  does  not  actually  realize  this  plunder 
from  his  fellow-citizens,  it  is  only  because  this  consumer  is 
wronged  in  this  other  form,  viz:  by  being  forced  to  buy  what 


'SIO         FOKMKK  LABOR  SYSTEM  OF  THE  SOUTllEKN  V.  S 

he  needs  from  a  man  nut  (inalitiod  t:)  produce  it  as  (•liea})lv  as 
it  miglir  have  been  produced  elsewhere.  One  of  the  confident 
arguments  of  protectionists  is:  Tliat  the  system  benefits  not 
only  the  protected  manufacturer,  but  all  the  neighboring  in- 
dustries around  him,  by  diffusing  capital  and  opening  markets 
for  their  products.  If  this  is  so,  then  the  X jrth  has  gained,  in 
the  race  of  comitarative  acquisition,  gained  without  earning  it 
even  more  than  the  vast  aggregate  of  additional  profits  paid  on 
protected  manufactures,  consumed  in  the  South.  Or,  if  an  at- 
tempt be  made  to  estimate  the  amount  of  our  losses  from  an- 
other i)oinr  of  view,  when  we  ask:  Why  does  the  American 
producer  demand  ])rotection?  His  answer  is:  because  without 
it  he  can  make  no  profit  in  the  face  of  European  competitors. 
If  this  is  just,  then  it  follows,  that  whatever  gains  these  pro- 
tected producers  now  have,  were  taken  without  value  received 
from  consumers!  From  Southern  consumers  in  that  propor- 
tion in  which  they  bought  tlieir  products.  Thus,  the  riches 
transferred  out  of  Southern  earnings  into  IS'orthern  hands,  be- 
tween 1820  and  ISGO,  are  seen  to  be  almost  beyond  computa- 
tion. But  even  this  did  not  measure  fairly  the  losses  unjustly 
imposed  on  Southern  industry  by  the  protective  system.  Like 
a  hasty  and  reckless  forager  in  an  enemy's  country,  it  destroyed 
far  more  than  the  plunder  it  carried  away.  It  happened  that 
the  South  had.  up  to  I860,  two  staples  especially  of  vital  im- 
portance to  her,  tobacco  and  cotton,  of  which  vastly  the  larger 
part,<  must  be  sold  abroad,  or  have  no  purchasers  because  the 
volume  of  their  production  was  manifold  what  the  United 
States  needed,  or  could  buy.  For  instance,  in  1860  the  single 
county  of  Halifax,  Va.,  and  Casewill,  N.  C,  were  producing 
enough  leaf  tobacco  to  supply  the  consumption  of  the  whole 
manufacturing  population  of  the  United  States.  Even  of  the 
5,500,000  bales  of  cotton  made  that  year,  the  United  States  were 
able  to  use  only  910,090  bales:  less  than  one-sixth.  Now,  if  a 
(See  comp.  of  C.  p.  180,)  the  South  was  to  get  a  living  price  for 
the  rest  of  these  grand  staples,  foreign  nations  must  buy  them. 
If  foreign  nations  bought,  they  must  pay  in  merchandizes  use- 
ful in  the  Southern  States,  for  international  exchange  must  be 
barter. 

For  instance:     England  said  to  the  South,  in  substance:' 
"We  desire  vour  cotton ;  if  we  pay  for  it  in  our  excellent  woolens 


FORMER  LABOR  SYSTEM  OF  THE  SOUTHERN  U.  S.         371 

niul  ii-()iMH(iiigery,  which  we  ol'iei'  cheai),  and  yon  need,  we  will 
buy  all  yoiii-  cotton  at  a  good  price."  But  the  tariff  steps  in 
and  says:  ''No;  England  shall  not  pay  in  woolens  and  iron"; 
except  under  such  disadvantages  as  must  vastly  reduce  the 
(luantity  exchanged  and  the  advantage  of  the  exchange.  Then 
England  must  say,  however  reluctantly:  ''Therefore  we  can 
lake  much  less  cotton,  or  at  a  much  lower  price."  Thus  the 
South  lost  twice;  once  in  this  cruel  reduction  of  the  selling  price 
of  her  own  products;  and  again  in  the  tribute  paid,  without 
value  received,  to  the  North. 

Evidently,  the  Southern  s,ystem  might  have  been  far  more 
])roduetive  of  values  than  the  rival  system,  and  yet,  under  this 
relentless  drain,  her  aggregate  of  values  might  have  been  far 
smaller.  That  she  c3uld  spare  this  enormous  drain,  receiving  no 
countervailing  commercial  advantage,  and  still  outrun  her  gi- 
gantic rival,  at  successive  decenniums,  is  an  evidence  of  the 
economic  vigor  of  her  system  and  her  people,  inexpressibly 
s])l('ndid. 

With  this  overwhelming  and  reiterated  testimou}'  of  the 
government  itself,  and  of  the  facts,  to  the  superior  profits  of 
the  Southern  system,  the  debate  might  end.  But  if  it  stopped 
wiih  a  sweeping  victory  here,  the  more  instructive  part  of  this 
history  of  the  past  would  be  missed.  We  propose  to  show  by 
what  principles  of  true  economic  science  this  result  was  at- 
raincd:  st«  contrary  to  the  prognostic's  of  the  more  favored  as- 
sei-tors  of  the  science  itself. 

It  iy  this  part  of  the  discussion,  which  will  furnish  the  val- 
ua.ble  corrections  and  additions  to  our  science,  for  the  untried 
future.  The  leading  writers  of  France,  Great  Britain  and  New 
England,  including  the  latest  and  perhaps  ablest  (Frederic  l>as- 
tial),  have  usually  followed  Adam  Smith,  in  demonstrating  the 
unprofitableness  of  slave  labor,  from  premises  given  chiefly  by 
fancy  and  slander.  It  should  have  given  them  pause  at  least 
in  their  application  of  their  passionate  declarations,  to  our 
Southern  system,  to  remember  that  most  of  them  had  never 
been  in  three  thousand  miles  of  our  country:  and  that  none  of 
I  hem  had  any  peri^onal  knowledge  of  the  real  character  o':  the 
S:;utiiei-u  ])eople,  or  of  the  Africans. 

The  stock  arguments  are  such  as  these:  "That  our  system 
made  the  masters  la/y:    That  the  slave  will  slight  his  work  as 


872    FOKMEK  LABOE  SYSTEM  OF  THE  SOUTHEKN  U.  S. 

much  as  lie  dares,  having-  no  incentive  to  diligence  but  I'ear; 
while  the  free  peasant  proprietor,  incited  by  self-interest,  will 
work  to  the  best  advantage:  That  the  methods  of  labor  will 
be  wasteful:  That  the  proprietors,  not  having  expended  their 
own  labor  for  the  products,  will  administer  them  wastefully: 
That  travelers  testify:  one  intelligent  free  laiborer  did  the  work 
of  two  slaves,"  etc. 

Mr.  Mills,  in  his  discussion  of  communism,  for  which  his  in- 
tense political  radicalism  gave  him  quite  a  fellow^  feeling,  has 
powerfully  refuted  his  own  passionate  arguments  against  the 
bad  economy  of  slave  labor.  No  better  defense  of  its  good  eco- 
nomic etfects  need  be  desired,  than  the  passages  in  book  2  ch.  1. 
where,  after  perforce  admitting  that  the  labor  of  communists 
must  be  compulsory,  he  yet  argues  that  it  would  be  the  most 
efficient  of  all. 

What  apjdication  these  arguments  may  have  had  to  the 
serfs  of  Russia  and  Hungary,  to  the  slaves  of  Brazil  and  the 
IJritisli  West  Indi(\s,  we  do  not  pretend  to  know.  But  we  do 
know  that  they  lack  application,  in  a  single  point,  to  our  South- 
ern system.  When  African  servants  were  poor  savages,  inept, 
alien,  knowing  no  words  of  English,  and  moreover  stiffened  and 
enfeebled  by  the  horrors  of  the  ''middle  passage,"  very  possibly 
they  did  only  half  a  freeman's  work.  It  is  not  unusual  that  a 
maxim  which  had  a  basis  of  truth  at  the  beginning,  may  be 
repeated  by  inaccurate  observers,  long  after  that  basis  is  re- 
moved. Certain  it  is  that  in  the  19th  century,  after  civiliza- 
tion, discipline,  good  feeding,  intelligent  tuition,  and  constant 
domestic  intercourse  with  the  most  spirited  and  cultivated  of 
the  white  races,  the  Africans  had  wholly  changed. 

In  1860,  as  they  were  the  best  fed  and- clothed,  so  they 
were  the  most  athletic,  the  most  skilled,  the  most  effective  and 
the  most  cheerful  agricultural  laborers  in  the  world.  Nothing 
is  said  here  of  the  multitudes  of  skilled  artisans  among  them, 
as  smiths,  masons,  plasterers,  carpenters,  machinists,  horse- 
fanciers,  sugar-refiners,  stone-cutters,  quarrymen.  The  indus- 
try of  our  system  was  prominently  agricultural;  we  speak  main- 
ly of  the  agricultural  labor.  We  do  not  ask  the  reader  to  ac- 
cept this  testimony  upon  the  word  of  the  writer,  who  after  be- 
ing reared  among  these  African  laborers,  had  opportunity  per- 
sonallv  to  compare  their  efficiency  with  that  of  free  laborers  in 


FORMER  LABOR  SYSTEM  OF  THE  SOUTHERN  U.  S.         378 

Gi-eat  Britain,  Germany  and  the  Nortli.  But  it  is  fortified  by 
a  number  of  solid  facts,  which  no  one  acquainted  with  the  t^outh 
will  hazard  his  credit  by  disputing. 

In  1800,  the  census  itself  told  us,  what  Northern  statesmen 
had  to  admit:  that  the  lands  immediately  South  of  tlie  divid- 
ing line,  in  Maryland,  N^iiginia,  Kentucky,  were  rated  at  least 
i)ne-fifth  higher  than  lands  of  the  same  soil  and  climate  in  Penn- 
sylvania and  Ohio,  immediately  North  of  the  line,  tilled  by  free, 
or  hireling  labor. 

The  great  "Valley  of  Virginia"  was  settled  by  the  Scotch- 
Irish  peasantry.  But,  while  at  first  a  free  labor  district,  with 
almost  no  Africans,  its  inclusion  under  the  Virginia  State  gov- 
ernment of  course  opened  it  to  the  Southern  system.  The  white, 
hireling  labor  was,  and  is,  the  best,  the  most  moral,  and  "the 
most  efticient  free  labor  in  America.  But  from  1840  to  18G0  the 
African  labor  was  introduced  steadily  and  progressively,  in 
preference  to  it.  This  was  usually  done  by  the  most  progres- 
sive, skilled  and  successful  land-owners;  and  almost  invariably 
the  neighborhoods  of  highest  agriculture  were  those  in  which 
this  change  had  gone  farthest.  The  original  sentiment  of  the 
"Valley''  people  had  been  more  favorable  to  free,  or  hireling 
labor. 

Although  the  major  part  of  the  immigration  into  America 
went  northward,  the  South  received  quite  an  appreciable  share 
of  it.  Some  German,  more  New  England,  and  still  more  Irish 
laborers  entered  the  South,  and  attempted  every  other  imag- 
inable line  of  industry.  But  it  was  a  notable  fact,  that  they( 
never  anywhere  entered  into  competition  with  the  Africans  for 
farm  labor.  But  the  demand  for  more  farm  labor  was  contin- 
ually increasing,  with  the  growing  prosperity  and  capital  of  the 
country. 

The  immigrants  saw  that  they  simply  could  not  keep  pace 
with  the  bondsmen.  Between  1850  and  1800  there  was  a  gigan- 
tic extension,  in  the  South,  of  railroads  and  other  internal  im- 
]H-ovements.  Multitudes  of  experienced  Northern  contractors 
sought  the  country,  to  share  in  the  profits  of  these  works.  They 
usually  brought  white  hireling  labor  with  them.  But  the  South- 
ern contractors  on  neighboring  sections  uniformly  executed 
their  contracts  with  African  labor,  more  quietly,  more  thor- 
oughly, and  more  economically.    Northern  engineers  superin- 


374    FORMER  LABOR  SYSTEM  OF  THE  SOUTHERN  U.  S. 

teuding  the  works  soon  saw  and  acknowledged  the  fact.  North- 
ern contractors  either  replaced  their  white  hireling  labor  by 
Africans,  or  the}'  transferred  their  contracts  to  Southern  con- 
tractors and  retired.  Such  was  the  regular  tendency,  not  uni- 
formly carried  out,  because  so  many  grand  works  were  in 
progress,  that  all  the  available  Africans  found  employment,  and 
many  whites  besides.  But  it  came  to  be  the  current  and  well 
known  answer  among  successful  railroad  men  to  the  question, 
"Can  he  make  a  profit  on  that  contract?"  ''Yes,  provided  he 
gets  black  labor." 

The  sudden  and  violent  emancipation  undoubtedly  depre- 
ciated the  black  labor  .and  that  seriously.  Every  land  holder 
felt  it.  X:)t  a  few  former  slave  holders,  still  in  bondage  to  the 
dogmatism  of  hireling  labor  assertion,  when  they  were  robbed 
of  their  black  labor,  comforted  themselves  (or  affected  to  com- 
fort themselves)  with  the  profession:  "Oh,  well;  they  may  be 
more  profitable  as  hirelings  than  as  bondsmen."  One  or  two 
years  farming  invariably  undeceived  them.  The  terrible  losses 
incurred  by  the  deterioration  of  freedmen's  labor  then  begat  an 
intense  desire  to  substitute  for  it  some  other  hireling  labor. 
Multitudes  of  experiments  were  made.  Landholders  reach  out 
every  whither  for  other  labor.  They  imported  Swedes,  Dutch- 
men, Norwegians,  French,  and,  of  course,  Irish.  They  even 
borrowed  from  California  some  of  her  Chinese.  But  the  in- 
variable conclusion  was,  that  while  the  freedmen's  labor  was 
impaired,  all  these  were  yet  worse.  The  African,  much  deter- 
iorated from  his  efficiency,  still  reuuiined  the  best  labor,  and 
to-day  all  over  the  former  slave-holding  districts,  if  hireling  la- 
bor is  used  at  all  it  is  mainly  that  of  blacks.  The  African  has 
again  occupied  the  labor  market  so  far  as  any  labor  market  re- 
mains on  the  farms,  and  the  landlords  who  do  not  get  on  with- 
out labor,  have  to  adjust  their  outlay,  and  their  hopes  of  profit 
to  the  stingier  scale  of  this  impaired  labor:  it  is  better  than 
any  other  accessible. 

In  order  to  infuse  a  particle  of  argument  into  the  remark 
that  a  slave  who  has  no  higher  motive  than  fear  of  the  lash, 
will  slight  his  work  more  than  the  peasant  proprietor;  it  must 
be  shown  that  the  modern  hireling  system  has  a  tendency  to 
increase  the  number  of  intelligent  peasant  proprietors  tilling 
their  own  acres  with  their  own  hands,  and  that  the  Southern 


FORMER  LABOR  SYSTEM  OF  THE  SOUTHERN  U.  S.         375 

system  tended  to  extinguish  them.  The  facts  are  notoriously 
tlie  opposite.  The  material  civilization  of  hireling  nations  de- 
mands constantly,  the  consolidation  of  smaller  holdings  into 
larger,  the  combination  of  more  labor  in  one  enterprise,  and 
the  application  of  larger  capital,  in  order  to  t-lieapen  produc- 
tion. 

One  has  only  to  look  at  Great  Britain:  ThP3ughout  the 
South,  there  was  a  large  and  growing  class  of  thrifty  yeomen 
farmers,  who,  while  slaveholders,  labored  regularly  with  their 
slaves.  This  class  did  more  really  verify  that  pleasing  picture 
of  labor  done  from  enlightened  self-interest;  because  the  one 
or  two  blacks  "keeping  row  about"  with  tlieir  master  and  his 
sturdy  sons,  were  carried  forward  by  example,  atfection  and 
emulation,  and  not  by  the  lash.  But  sim-e  the  tendency  of  the 
hireling  system  is  to  have  even  more  of  the  labor  done  by  mere 
hirelings,  than  was  ever  done  at  the  South  by  slaves;  it  is 
enough  to  ask  the  practical  man:  Can  not  a  mere  hireling  be 
a  time  server?  Cannot  he  als.)  cheat  his  employer  of  the  due 
task?  Is  the  fear  of  losing  the  shilling  any  higher  motive  than 
the  fear  of  the  lash? 

As  to  the  universal  plague  and  curse  of  inefficiency  in  hire- 
ling labor,  let  Mr.  John  Stuart  Mill's  melancholy  testimony  be 
heard.  Speaking  of  the  heavy  losses  experienced  by  the  hire- 
ling societies  of  Europe  througli  the  1  jw  moral  tone  of  the  la- 
borers, he  sighs  thus:  Book  1.  ch.  1»,  p.  173:  "All  who  have 
ever  employed  hired  labor  have  had  ample  experience  of  the 
efforts  made  to  give  as  little  labor  in  exchange  for  the  wages,  as 
is  coii.patible  with  not  being  turned  off.  There  is  universal 
neglec .  by  domestic  servants  of  their  employers'  interests — un- 
le-;s  wliere  long  continuance  in  the  same  service  and  reciprocal 
go  )d  offices  have  produced  personal  attachment."  And  this  is 
exactly  what  the  Southern  system  did.  ''Friendly  relations  and 
community  of  interests  and  feelings  between  laborers  and  em- 
ployers are  eminently  so"  (conducive  to  profit).  ''I  should  rather 
say:  would  be  so,  for  I  know  not  wliere  any  such  sentiment  of 
friendly  alliance  now  exists."  [We  add  the  emphasis  of  the 
"italics."  Bk.  I.  Ch.  12,  p.  281.) 

Had  Mr.  Mill  allowed  himself  to  look  at  the  Southern  la- 
bor system  "with  eyes  unclouded  by  prejudice,  he  would  have 
seen  precisely  this  relationship  between  laborers  and  employ- 
ers, which  he  sighs  for  as  the  hopeless  ideal. 


376    FORMER  LABOR  SYSTEM  OF  THE  SOUTHERN  U.  S. 

The  adult  bondsmau  usually  felt  as  much  pride  and  zeal 
for  the  success  of  the  year;  for  the  cleanest  fields;  for  the  finest 
sample  of  cotton  or  tobacco,  or  the  highest  price,  as  the  master; 
often  more.  In  their  comparisons  of  the  farms  with  each  other, 
the  speakers  belonging  to  different  masters,  it  was  always: 
"Our  crop'';  ''our  prices";  "our  victory"  in  the  race  for  the 
largest  return.  The  reproach  of  a  crop  in  the  grass  was  their 
personal  humiliation.  The  loss  of  grain  by  a  freshet,  or  of  cat- 
tle by  disaster,  was  always  their  loss.  Often  and  often,  in  the 
former  contingency,  were  the  negroes  seen  far  more  zealous  to 
rescue  the  precious  harvest  from  the  rising  waters  than  the  mas- 
ter: S3  that  he  would  be  heard  recalling  them  with  entreaties 
and  commands,  against  their  protests,  from  farther  risk  of 
health  or  life.  Of  course  all  this  sounds  very  strange  to  a  mind 
deluged  with  imaginary  tales  of  plantation  despotism.  But  all 
is  credible  to  any  intelligent  man,  who  remembers  how  certain- 
ly the  warm  tie  of  clanship  and  feudal  allegiance  sprang  up, 
between  all  wholesome  natures  brought  into  the  domestic  rela- 
tion of  superior  and  inferior.  In  the  16th  century,  the  power 
of  the  Highland  Chief  in  Scotland,  over  his  ''gilly,''  was  prac- 
tically all  that  a  master's  could  be  over  a  serf:  as  truly  for  life, 
as  unrestrained,  as  complete.  But  every  clansman  to  the  low- 
est "gilly''  was  inllamed  with  the  pride  and  zeal  of  his  clan;  he 
impersonated  it  in  his  Chief;  he  stood  ready  to  die  for  him. 

He  who  would  understand  the  Sonrlicin  system  must  also 
give  the  adult  bondsman  credit  for  a  grade  of  intelligence,  vast- 
ly higher  than  the  scanty  use  he  made  of  letters  would  imply. 

It  must  be  remembered,  that  this  black  man  has  grown  up 
in  domestic  intimacy  and  friendship  with  his  master,  a  member 
of  the  most  cultured  race  in  Christendom.  The  black  man  has 
heard  and  joined  in  his  conversation.  He  has  heard  the  preach- 
ing of  his  master's  pastor.  In  sickness  he  has  been  instructed 
and  treated  by  his  scientific  physician.  He  has  been  taught  at 
least  the  practical  part  (often  the  theoretic)  of  that  skillful  and 
enlightened  method  of  agriculture,  in  which  he  is  occupied,  and 
of  the  constant  use  of  the  best  mechanical  appliances  in  the 
world.  He  has  been  the  intimate  and  interested  spectator  of  a 
large  and  sagacious  domestic  economy.  To  suppose  that  such 
a  bondsman  does  not  comprehend  his  own  and  his  family's  in- 
terest in  the  plantation  would  be  a  blunder  much  more  stupid 
rbau  Africans  usuallv  make. 


FORMER  LABOR  SYSTEM  OF  THE  SOUTHERN  U.  S.    377 

No;  lie  comprehends  perfectly,  that  this  plantation  is  vir- 
tnally  a  joint  stock  entei-})i'ise  nnder  the  master's  presidency. 
That  as  he  has  received  from  it  his  nurture  in  boyhood;  so  he 
is  now  indebted  to  it  for  certain  employment,  subsistence  and 
home:  That  it  assumes  for  him  the  certain  and  comfortable 
support  of  his  wife  and  children,  whether  sickness,  or  drought, 
or  freshet  or  hail  come  or  no:  That  it  is  the  safe  savings  bank, 
Into  which  he  is  now  annually  putting  the  fund,  which  is  un- 
failing to  support  him  in  his  old  age,  ''sitting  under  his  owin 
vine  and  fig  tree,"  without  labor  or  care:  That  the  insolvency 
of  the  enterprise,  through  the  laborers'  fault  would  be  the  dread- 
ed loss  of  all  these  hoarded  advantages,  and  would  imply  risk 
of  separations,  impoverishment,  and  banishment  from  his  here- 
ditary home.  The  intelligent  black  well  understood  all  this. 
Hence,  the  plantation  usually  dis])layed  as  the  result  of  loyal 
al^'ection,  and  reasonable  self-interest  the  nearest  approach  seen 
under  any  modern  system,  to  Mr.  Mill's  ideal  relation  of  labor. 
There  was  no  hireling  labor  on  earth,  requiring  so  little  of  the 
expense  of  supervision;  no  laborers  who  executed  so  much  la- 
bor with  so  little  of  the  eye  of  master,  overseer,  or  "boss"  upon 
them. 

The  remarks  thus  far  made  have  been  directed  chiefly  to 
obviating  errors  and  objections;  we  advance  to  more  positive 
arguments.    The  first  is: 

1.  One  exceedingly  simple,  though  surprisingly  overlook- 
ed. Let  there  be  two  societies,  in  each  of  wliich  there  is  a  body 
of  people  without  capital,  who  should  therefore  be  workers,  and 
who  must  be  consumers,  and  of  equal  numbers.  In  the  one  so- 
ciety, there  is  no  positive  authority  to  nmke  any  of  this  body 
work,  who  do  not  choose.  The  consequence  is,  that  one-third  of 
them  do  not  choose,  work  none,  and  live  by  preying  on  the 
fruits  of  others'  labor.  But  the  two-thirds  being  freely  moved 
thereto:  we  may  suppose  work  A'ery  well.  In  the  other  society, 
there  is  a  firm  ])ractical  authority,  which  compels  every  one  to 
work  six  days  in  every  week.  They  ma^'  not  work  quite  so  *ell 
as  the  voluntary  workers  in  the  other  society — we  may  concede 
merely  for  argument's  sake — yet,  as  there  are  three  ta  two,  a 
good  deal  more  is  done;  a  good  many  more  values  are  produced, 
and,  above  all,  the  society  is  delivered  from  the  consuming  pest 
of  the  idlers,  and  all  the  vices,  disorders,  and  interruptions  sug- 


378        FOKMER  LABOR  SYSTEM  OF  THE  SOUTHERN  U.  S. 

gestcd  by  idleness.  Such  was  the  literal  difference  between  the 
Southern  system  and  its  rival. 

The  former  had,  in  its  laboring  class,  no  able-bodied  idlers, 
no  "tramps,"  no  "boys,"  no  strong  men  wasting  their  strength 
on  "hurdy  gurdies"  and  dancing  monkeys;  no  such  thing  as  a 
"criminal  class,"  and  very  few  criminals.  The  economic  advan- 
tage is  too  plain  to  dispute. 

2.  The  expense  of  dealing  with,  and  providing  for  the 
pauper  and  criminal  classes  is  a  dead  charge  on  the  production 
of  the  society.  In  a  hireling  society,  it  is  rehitively  a  very  oner- 
ous one.  The  subsistence  of  paupers,  at  public,  instead  of  pri- 
vate expense,  implies  the  additional  cost  of  buildings,  officials 
to  be  salaried,  and  the  waste  and  speculation  commonly  attend- 
ing public  administration.  As  to  the  "dangerous  classes,"  they 
must  be  watched  by  a  costly,  and  most  often,  an  inefficient  po- 
lice. Then  there  must  be  well  paid  sheriffs  to  arrest  them,  pa- 
latial jails  to  secure  them,  salaried  judges  to  try  them,  all  the 
apparatus  of  a  costly  legal  profession  to  prosecute  and  defend 
them  and  at  last,  enormous  and  expensive  penitentiaries  to  pun- 
ish them  in,  at  the  cost  of  the  honest  workers.  Look  now,  at 
the  simplicity  and  economy  of  the  Southern  sj'stem. 

There  were  almost  no  white  paupers:  and  there  could  not 
be  in  a  whole  State,  a  single  black  one.  The  infirm  were  cared 
for  by  the  masters,  on  the  plantations,  with  no  additional  charge 
for  lodging,  nursing,  or  attending.  This  reduced  the  cost  of 
rhe  charity  to  that  of  simple  food,  clothing  and  medicine. 

There  was  no  criminal  class,  and  consequently,  not  one  dol- 
lar of  cost  for  police.  The  plantation  policed  itself.  Felonies 
prosecuted  before  the  courts  of  the  country  were  very  few ;  and 
justice  was  administered  by  the  master  himself,  for  all  those 
minor  offenses  (which  in  hireling  societies  require  so  expensive 
an  apijaratus  of  police,  courts,  lawyers,  costs,  prisons)  without 
(Uie  cent  of  charge,  without  officials,  without  any  prison  or 
court  house,  without  the  loss  t)f  a  day's  labor  by  the  culprit.  His 
otfense  was  sini})ly  examined  by  his  master,  almost  invariably 
a  judicious  and  moderate  judge;  he  was  either  cleared,  scolded, 
or  switched;  and  went  at  once  bai-k  to  his  work. 

No  word  is  needed  to  show  how  favorable  the  morality  of 
a  population  is  to  production.  The  Southern  system  not  only 
reduced  to  the  minimum  cost  the    prosecution    of    such    law 


FORMER  LABOR  SYSTEM  OF  THE  SOUTHERN  U.  S.  379 

breakers  as  slie  had.  but  astoiiisliingiy  reduced  rlioir  nuuibers, 
bv  improviufi-  the  practical  morality  of  her  people.  The  South- 
ern system  was  the  most  effective  temperance  S3ciety  in  the 
world.  The  regular  supervision  and  methodical  employment 
removed  the  lat^orers  from  temptation;  and  in  the  few  cases  of 
intDxication,  a  smart  application  of  the  birch  was  a  better  re- 
cipe to  produce  immediate  relief,  than  all  the  materia  medica. 
It  is  probable  that  up  to  18G0.  there  was  not  one  drunkard's 
grave  filled  by  a  bondsman  in  America.  There  was  no  loss  of 
time  from  dissipation,  little  waste  of  values  in  liquors,  and  no 
police  expense  a'bout  disorders.  Thus  in  ISoO,  when  the  whole 
population  of  the  Njrth  was  about  thirteen  and  a  half  millions, 
and  of  the  South  nine  and  a  half  (whites  and  blacks)  the  hireling 
societies  had  23,664  criminal  convictions,  while  the  South  had 
2.021.  The  same  year  the  North  was  supporting  114,704  pau- 
pers; the  South  20,563.  In  Boston,  Mass.,  and  the  adjacent 
county,  the  persons  in  jails,  houses  of  correction,  or  refuge,  and 
almshouses,  bore  among  the  blacks,  the  ratio  of  one  to  sixteen 
of  that  population;  and  among  the  whites,  of  one  to  every  thirty- 
four.  The  same  year  in  liichmynd.  Va.,  the  same  unhappy  class- 
es bore,  among  tlu'  blacks,  the  ratio  of  one  to  forty-six,  and 
among  the  whites,  of  one  to  one  hundred  and  twelve.  Had  the 
iudu.«try  of  the  hireling  system  really  been  greatly  more  profit- 
able than  that  of  the  Southern,  the  expense  of  all  this  excess  of 
crime  would  have  eaten  up  the  whole  overplus  and  more. 

3.  The  Southern  system  always  presented  an  economic  ad- 
vantage, in  the  stable  and  peaceable  relation  it  established  be- 
tween capital  and  labor.  Every  year  since  its  overthrow  has 
but  illustrated  this  advantage,  and  sober  minds  were  never  so 
well  prepared  to  appreciate  it,  as  by  the  strikes  and  angry  con- 
tests between  employers  and  hirelings,  which  approach  every 
season  more  nearly  the  fearful  dimensions  of  anarchy  and  civil 
war.  How  shall  capital  enjoy  that  quiet,  sure  and  steady  con- 
irol  of  hireling  labor,  which  is  absolutely  essential  to  produc- 
tion; and  yet  hireling  labor  be  protected  against  injustice,  and 
against  that  depression  of  wages  under  their  stern  law  of  sup- 
})ly  and  demand  in  an  increasing  population,  which  pauperizes 
labor?  This  is  the  insoluble  question,  the  very  crux  of  the 
scientific  economists,  before  which  they  stand  confused  and 
helpless.    The  "labor  unions"  may  result  in  anarchy,  or  in  com- 


880        FORMER  LABOR  SYSTEM  OF  THE  SoTJTHEllN  U.  S. 

munism,  or  in  a  "reign  of  terror":  they  will  never  lead  to  a 
wholesome  solution. 

The  KSonthern  system  solved  it,  so  far  as  the  classes  of  la- 
borers under  it  was  engaged,  by  a  simple  and  complete  remedy. 
This  was  to  abolish  the  very  conditions  of  the  strife,  by  making 
the  laborer  the  property  of  the  capitalist.  One  result  efficacious- 
ly secured  was,  that  the  laborers  could  never  be  pauperized  or 
reduced  below  a  comfortable  and  efficient  standard  of  subsist- 
ence: because  the  capitalist,  in  doing  this,  would  be  destroying 
his  own  property.  Another  result  was,  that  there  were  no  con- 
troversies nor  strikes,  so  wasteful  of  time  and  subsistence,  and 
so  obstructive  of  i)roduction.  Still  another  was,  that  it  was 
impossible  for  the  laborer  ever  to  feel  that  most  cruel  of  all 
wants,  the  want  of  work,  while  willing  to  work,  and  pressed 
by  starvation  if  he  did  not. 

The  South,  instead  of  ever  witnessing  that  pitiful  and  har- 
rowing scece  lately  enacted  in  London,  when  six  thousand  des- 
perate men  with  starving  wives  and  children  behind  them, 
beset  the  government  offices  deujanding,  in  vain,  not  bread,  but 
work,  to  be  beaten  back  by  the  police;  never  once  in  a  century 
saw  the  head  of  one  black  family  "out  of  work''  except  on  his 
intended  holidays. 

For  the  master  knew  that,  wliether  any  work  were  going 
01.  or  not  he  had  that  family  to  f(^ed  and  clothe,  and  })res€rve 
from  destitution,  to  this  both  the  law  and  his  own  interests 
must  imperiously  f^rce  him.  Hence  the  master  felt  a  power- 
ful interest  in  foreseeing,  in  prearranging,  in  dedicating  his 
own  capital  to  some  useful  labor,  which  If  not  immediately  pro- 
ductive, would  ultimately  be  so;  so  that  in  every  emergency 
there  should  be  for  his  laborers  some  work  compensated  by 
subsistence.  Tf  the  price  of  a  product  fell,  by  some  commercial 
or  political  cause,  beneath  the  level  of  profitable  production, 
the  master  did  not  and  could  not  resort  to  the  usual  relief  of 
the  liireliug  system:  suspend  all  i)rodu(tion  and  dismiss  the  la- 
borers to  starve,  if  it  might  be  sol  Xo:  lie  suspended  this  produc- 
tion, and  directed  the  labor  at  once  to  some  other  task  provided 
by  his  capital  and  foresight.  If  the  given  farm  staple  ceased  to 
pay  the  cost  of  production,  the  farm  labor  was  diverted  from 
it  to  some  extensive  work  of  drainage,  stone  fencing,  clearing, 
or  other  amelioration  which  would  increase  future  prodiu-tioiis; 


FoeMeR  laBok  system  Of  the  souTntetiN  tr.  s.      381 

while  tlie  laborers  drew,  in  advance,  out  of  his  capital,  their 
accustomed  comfortable  remuneration. 

•A.  In  appraising-  the  wealth  of  the  South,  we  noticed  the 
objection  to  counting  rhe  labor  of  the  Africans  as  property,  and 
while  we  demurred  to  its  justice,  we  waived  discussing  it,  aji 
not  desiring  here  to  raise  the  ethical  question.  But  all  the 
laws,  all  the  business  usages,  and  the  full  faith  of  the  country 
regarded  that  labor  as  property-.  It  was  taxable  (not  only  with 
a  poll,  but  a  property  tax),  was  vendible,  could  be  bequeathed, 
and  made  subject  to  lien,  or  hire.  From  this  usage  the  indus- 
try of  the  country  derived  at  least  this  advantage:  That  the 
basis  of  credits  was  thus  very  greatly  widened.  The  prudent 
use  of  credits  is  a  wonderful  aid  to  production.  When  a  debt 
exists,  it  is  a  great  advantage  to  the  'business  of  the  country, 
that  the  just  creditor  shall  find  assets  out  of  which  to  realize 
pajment.  A  "bad  debt"  is  usually  a  dead  loss  to  the  productive 
capital  of  the  country.  To  strip  a  business  man  of  the  means 
of  giving  security  for  a  loan,  is  to  strip  him  of  oommerciial, 
credit,  and  thus  to  cripple  his  prosperity  by  a  most  hurtful  im- 
position. Thus  the  smaller  business  man  of  Texas  is  already 
beginning  to  learn  that  the  various  homestead,  and  exemption 
laws,  making  it  impossible  for  him,  even  by  his  own  consent, 
to  use  his  property  as  security  for  loans,  injure  instead  of  pro- 
tecting him.  Tlieir  only  effect  is  to  shut  him  inexorably  out  from 
what  perhaps  is  most  essential  for  his  prosperity,  all  access  to 
a  cheap  loan  market.  He  is  stripped  of  the  power  of  commer- 
cial credits  as  though  a  pauper.  Thus,  this  legislation,  which 
professes  to  protect  the  families  of  small  means,  is  really  a  law 
to  tie  the  hands  of  the  poor  man  and  give  the  rich  man,  who' 
has  sufficient  property  over  and  above  all  exemptions  to  offer 
full  security,  a  deadly  advantage  against  him  in  the  loan  mar- 
ket. The  hireling  system  wrought  a  parallel  disadvantage 
against  its  people,  as  compared  with  the  South,  by  affecting  to 
regard  labor  as  not  a  value,  and  thus  crippling  the  power  to 
borrow:  while  the  South,  by  making  so  large  a  part  of  its  labor 
a  value,  doubled  its  solid  credit. 

5,  Among  the  most  luminous  and  valuable  contributions 
to  economic  science  in  our  age,  are  those  investigations  by 
which  the  English  writers,  Mill  and  Wakefield,  and  numerous 
accurate  French  and  German  observers  have  proved,  and  ex- 


'3^2        FORMER  LABOR  SYSTEM  OF  ^Mfi  SOUTHERN  U.  S. 

plniiit'd.  the  superior  ecouomv  of  nioderarely  larjie  over  «niall 
pi-oductive  operations.  Indeed,  tlie  demonstration  is  practical- 
ly so  sweeping,  in  tlie  manufacturing  industries,  that  it  has 
revolutionized  the  civilized  world.  The  individual  producer  has 
been  annihilated  by  being  undersold  by  the  larger  manufac- 
turer. 

Where  is  the  hand  loom:  the  domestic  forge  producing 
axes,  hoes,  horse-shoes,  the  country  wheelwright,  the  country 
shoemaker?  The  farm  cannot  even  afford  to  produce  its  own 
axe-helve,  thDugh  the  hickory  may  grow  in  its  hedge  row. 

The  same  economic  rule  applies  to  moderately  large  agri- 
cull  ure,  as  compared  with  peasant  proprietors.  The  large  farm- 
ing produces  more  economically,  because  it  permit's  more  ap- 
plication of  the  all-important  principle  of  "division  of  labor." 
It  allows  that  assortment  of  labor,  applying  the  cheaper  hands 
to  the  lighter  tasks,  which  save  so  much. 

On  the  well  organized  Southern  farm,  the  plough,  the  axe, 
the  scythe,  the  hoe,  the  team  ottered  constant  and  remunera- 
tive work  to  the  strong  men;  while  the  less  valuable  labor  of  the 
hoj^  and  girls,  and  the  elderly,  was  equally  as  effective  in  the 
lighter  task.  But  on  the  peasant  proprietor's  farm,  the  strong 
man,  whose  every  day  should  have  been  worth  to  him  a  dollar, 
is  compelled  to  spend  many  days  in  picking  beans;  where  the 
child,  worth  a  shilling  a  day,  would  pick  as  many.  The  larger 
farm  permits  the  essential  advantage  of  combination  of  labor. 
How  can  one  man  stack  sheaves  of  grain,  without  a  waste  of 
time  and  toil  almost  heartbreaking,  in  descending  from  the 
stack,  and  ascending  with  every  handful  of  sheaves?  This  is 
the  extreme  instance.  But  there  are  many  operations,  in  which 
four  or  five  men  can  easih'  do  more  than  four  or  five  times  as 
much  as  one  man.  All  the  purchases  for  the  large  farm  can 
be  made  more  savingly,  because  in  larger  quantities  and  at  a 
wholesale  price.  But  especially  is  the  gain  great  in  the  em.- 
ploymeut  of  better  implements  and  machinerj-.  The  Southern 
planter  or  farmer  usually  employed  a  part  of  his  capital  lib- 
erally, in  providing  these  known  to  science.  But  how  can  the 
peasant  proprietor  of  Belgium  or  France,  whose  farm  is  five 
acres,  afford  a  three-horse  plow,  that  essential  of  thorough  till- 
age; or,  indeed,  any  plow  at  all?  Or  a  McOormick's  reaper,  or 
mower?    Or  an  effective  thresher?    He  produces  his  little  crops 


I'OllMEl^  tAROU  SYSTEM  Ol*  THE  SOUTHEHN  tJ.  S  383 

(confessedly  large  foi-  his  minute  surface)  at  a  wasteful  expeu.>e 
of  time  and  toil,  with  the  spade,  the  wheelbarrow,  the  sickle 
and  the  flail.  The  attempt  has  been  made  to  foil  these  facts,  by 
assenting,  that  a  richer  peasant,  or  co-partnership,  may  own 
the  thresher,  and  perambulate  the  neighborhood,  hiring  it  out. 
This  only  palliates  the  evil.  A  large  percentage  of  the  time  is 
lost,  removing  and  re-setting  the  heavy  machinery;  many  la- 
borers have  to  be  specially  hired,  at  very  special  prices:  and 
tlie  tolls  charged  are  always  much  above  just  cost.  Many 
praises  have  been  bestowed  upon  the  economy  of  these  small 
peasant  farms:  "The  very  grass  along  the  gutters  of  the 
chaussee,  the  succulent  weeds  from  the  raws  of  the  sugar  beet 
field,  are  all  saved  for  the  domestic  animals.''  Yes  but  at  a 
ruinous  cost  of  wasted  time.  This  is  the  shape  which  the  sen- 
sible observer  sees  these  savings  take  in  those  countries.  He 
sees  a  bevy  of  five,  seven  or  ten  strapping  young  women,  sally- 
ing forth  at  1  o'clock  p.  m.  from  the  '^Darf,"  each  with  her  little 
sickle  and  huge  liamper,  to  spend  the  Lang,  bright  afternoon  in 
a  tramp  of  a  mile  and  a  half  to  their  parents'  little  sections,  and 
in  saving  and  bearing  home  (converting  themselves  into  beasts 
of  burden)  each,  two  pfenwings'  worth  weeds  or  grass  to  be  fed 
to  the  calf  or  milch  goat.  But  those  girls,  on  a  well  ordered 
Virginia  farm,  would  have  raked,  dried,  and  loaded  on  the  well- 
appointed  wagons,  in  that  one  afternoon  ten  or  twenty  tons  of 
clover  hay  or  wheat  sheaves,  or  oats:  or  later  in  the  season 
have  gathered  each  150  pounds  of  seed  cotton,  at  the  minimum 
average  of  50  cents  per  hundred  pounds.  These  w'ere  fright- 
fully wasteful  savings:  They  are  only  justified  by  the  fact,  that 
the  bad  organization  of  this,  so-called  "free  labor  system,"  has 
made  this  labor,  which  should  Ix'  so  valu;ible.  nearly  worthless 
to  their  families. 

Now,  the  force  of  these  facts  is  in  the  following  view.  That 
if  the  advocate  of  the  hireling  system  is  t:)  evade  this  fatal  argu- 
ment, he  must  advocate  large  farming  by  hireling  labor.  But 
rhe  moment  he  does  so,  lie  must  bid  farewell  to  all  his  pretty 
Arcadian  pictures  of  the  snug  little  "glebe  tilled  by  the  willing- 
hands  of  the  peasant  proprietor,  instead  of  the  loitering,  reluc- 
tant slave."  He  must  accept  and  justify  all  those  consequen- 
ces, wliicli  the  universal  experience  of  hireling  States  prove  to 
be  inseparable  from  liigli  farming  with  adequate  capital  and 


884    FORMER  LABOR  SYSTEM  OF  THE  SOUTHERN  V.  ^. 

science:  the  eviction  of  rlie  cotton  tenantry:  tlie  horrible  "gang; 
system"  of  lield  labor:  the  pollnting-  "bothy-systeni""  of  lodging, 
and  the  brntal  abominations  disclosed  by  the  British  parlia- 
ment as  to  their  large  agricnlture.  Snch.  indeed,  is  the  nnavoid- 
able  tendency  of  the  hii-eling  system  in  this  age  of  mechanical 
improvement:  for  it  leads  directly  to  the  heai>ing  up  of  unduly 
large  fortunes  (for  reasons  to  be  shown)  and  the  inflation  of 
money-oligarchs,  "making  the  rich  richer  and  the  poor  poorer." 
But  the  Southern  system,  while  not  favorable  to  these  dispro- 
portioned  aggregations,  opposed  an  effectual  barrier  to  those 
mischievously  small  subdivisions  of  the  land,  to  which  the 
small  holdings  must  inevitably  run  in  a  democracy. 

The  drift  of  the  sj'stem  was  to  till  the  country  chiefly  (with 
a  few  exceptions  like  that  of  Washington  of  Mt.  Vernon)  with 
moderate  holdings,  from  those  ot  the  snug  yejmanry  with  two 
or  three  bondsmen  to  the  easy  country  gentleman  with  some 
hundreds  of  acres. 

The  smallest  were  not  too  small  to  employ  most  of  the 
profitable  appliances;  the  largest  were  not  so  hirge  as  to  be 
cumbersome. 

Xo  economist  disputes  the  extreme  advantage  of  intelli- 
gence to  producti3n,  especially  in  these  days  of  applied  science. 
Now,  the  man  addicted  to  daily  toil  cannot  usually  acquire  the 
intelligence,  or  the  knowledge  of  the  sciences  bearing  on  pro- 
duction, which  is  the  customary  possession  of  the  master,  whose 
labars  are  chiefly  those  of  superintendence,  and  who,  though  a 
busy  man,  yet  had  time  for  reading.  Thus  the  result  of  the 
Southern  system  was,  that  the  best,  the  most  advanced  mind 
of  the  society  had  the  full  direction  of  the  methods  of  the  opera- 
tions. The  "field  hands'*  and  especially  the  "head  men"  were 
usually  very  skillful  in  their  manual  labor;  capital  practical 
"crop  masters"  for  the  ordinary  crops,  good  judges  of  weather, 
of  the  proper  tillage  and  harvesting  of  those  crops,  and  handlers 
of  teams.  The  landholders  were  in  addition,  men  of  reading, 
acquainted  with  every  advance  in  machinery,  applied  science, 
chemical  manures,  the  physiology  of  stock  breeding ;  and  eager 
for  every  enlightened  experiment  in  husbandry. 

6.  It  is  as  true  in  political,  as  in  household  economy,  that 
"saving  is  more  than  making."  The  growth  of  capital  depends 
proximately  on  the  saving.    Of  course,  natural  agents,  pre-ex- 


FORMER  LABOR  SYSTEM!  OF  TKE  SOUTHERN,  U.  S.        385 

isriiij''  capital,  and  lalioi-  iiiusr  tirsr  create  the  additional  valnes. 
lint  wliether  tliey  .shall  be  annihilated  in  nnproduction,  con- 
sumption, or  be  added  to  the  saved  up  and  devoted  to  reproduc- 
tiA'e  consumption,  depends  wholly  on  their  being  saved.  Now, 
saving  means  self-denial.  Self-denial  means  the  mental  and 
moral  ability  to  appreciate  a  distant  invisible  future  good:  that 
namely,  to  be  hereafter  yielded  by  subsequent  returns  of  the 
capital  saved;  more  than  a  present  visible  one.  The  public  con- 
ditions favorable  for  such  saving  are,  of  course,  security  of 
rights  and  possessions,  and  quiet  and  stability  of  governments. 
I>ut  the  personal  conditions  which  stimulate  them  to  save  are, 
as  plainly,  intelligence,  self-control,  virtue  and  aspirations.  The 
more  animal  and  sensuous  holder  of  newly  acquired  values  will 
prefer  the  immediate  and  visible  enjoyments  they  potentially 
contain.  The  more  intellectual  holder  will  prefer  the  invisi- 
ble, distant,  but  larger  good  they  can  yield,  not  once,  but  an- 
nually, as  reproductive  capital.  The  more  selfish  man  will 
prefer  at  once  to  gratify  himself:  The  more  disinterested  and 
virtuous  man  will  tliiuk  more  of  the  good  of  his  children  and 
country. 

We  hence  expect,  just  what  all  history  proves:  that  the 
most  intelligent  and  elevated  classes  are  always  the  most  sav- 
ing, in  proportion  to  their  acquisitions.  No  one  has  argued  this 
more  powerfully,  or  illustrated  it  ruore  profusely,  than  Mr.  Mill. 
Political  Econ.  Bk.  I.  Ch.  II. 

Hence,  it  is  always  more  favorable  to  the  steady  growth 
of  capital,  that  the  successive  years'  earnings  of  the  society  be 
controlled  and  administered  by  the  highest  class.  No  kind  of 
society  ever  attained  this  result  so  completely  as  the  Southern. 
For,  the  owner  as  master  not  only  disposed  of  the  revenue  of 
the  estate,  directed  its  wliole  expenditure  or  investment;  but 
as  guardians  of  the  laborer  and  their  families,  he  and  his  wife 
administered  the  3'ear's  supply  of  food,  clothing  and  comforts, 
for  them  all.  Even  had  the  master  and  mistress  had  no  higher 
standard  of  forecast,  ju-udence  and  administratiA'e  skill  than 
the  a^'erage  African,  this  would  have  still  resulted  in  a  great 
economy.  Let  us  say  that  there  wei-e  seven  laborers'  families. 
There  wa?  a  much  greater  saving  of  supplies  and  of  labor  and 
of  time,  in  having  tlie  housekeeping  of  the  wliole  directed  by 
one  head,  rather  tlian   having  seven  separate  kitchens,  each 


386        FORMKK  J.ABOR  SYSTEM  OF  THE  SOUTHERJ^f  tJ.  S 

with  its  streams  of  jjetty  wastes,  seven  laundries,  and  seven 
varying  managements:  rlie  major  part  of  them  recklessly  waste- 
ful. Now  add  to  this  the  executive  and  directing  skill  of  the 
niosr  inrelligenr.  foreseeing  and  responsible  couple  of  all  on 
the  planrarion  irlie  master  and  his  wife)  and  the  advantage  be- 
c:)mes  grand.  Consequently,  no  cluster  of  seven  laboring  men's 
families  in  any  country  of  the  world  got  so  much  of  matenal 
gofid  and  comforr  out  of  the  portion  of  revenue  set  apart  for 
them,  as  the  bondsmen  on  the  plantation. 

Wastes  were  minimized;  an  enlightened  system  and  econ- 
omy presided  over  all. 

This  saving  administration  appeared  especially  at  one 
[joint,  when  obsei-vers  from  hireling  States  perversely  insisted 
on  seeing  the  main  evidence  of  Southern  poverty.  Xo  business 
man  nor  economist  would  dare  to  dispute  this  proposition: 
That  it  is  conducive  to  the  putolic  wealth  to  have  values  not 
only  produced,  or  created,  as  economically  as  possible,  but  also 
ciiculated  as  economically  as  possible.  For  in  fact,  the  labor 
of  circulation,  distribution,  which  is  commercial  industry,  is 
also  production.  In  transferring  and  dividing  a  value  for  the 
intending  consumer,  this  industry  has  as  truly  created  an  in- 
crement of  value  in  the  commodity,  as  the  manufacturer  has, 
who  turns  a  woolen  fleece  into  a  coat.  Every  agent  of  distribu- 
tion then,  who  really  contributes  an  agency  essential  to  circu- 
lation of  ih(^  commodity,  is  a  jjroducing  agent.  But  he  who 
has  included  himself  into  the  circulation,  where  his  agency 
really  contributes  nothing  valuable  to  the  process,  is  worse 
tlian  a  non-productive  agent — he  is  a  nuisance,  grasping  a  wage 
for  a  service  not  needed,  and  eating  up  the  values  produced  by 
honester  men  than  himself.  Thus  in  the  change  of  a  fleece  into 
a  useful  coat,  the  industry  of  the  spinner,  the  weaver,  and  the 
cloth  dresser,  was  each  useful,  and  created  an  item  of  additional 
value.  But  let  us  suppose  that  another  fellow  had  intruded 
himself  into  the  manufacture  as  second  dyer,  insisting  on  do- 
ing something  to  the  color  of  the  cloth,  which  was  already  per- 
fect, and  charging  his  share  of  wages  therefor;  he  would  have 
been  a  mischievous  consumer,  instead  of  a  productive  agent. 

So  every  "'middleman''  in  the  operations  of  circulation  of 
commodities,  whose  intervention  is  unnecessary,  is  an  unpro- 
ductive consumer.    His  gains  are  his  fellow-citizens'  losses;  and 


I^orMer  labor  system  of  the  southern  u.  s.       387 

liis  iu-rivity  and  prosjx'i-iiy  ai-p  nuisances.  Ju.st  such  nuisances 
tlie  Southern  system  avoided,  by  the  simple  method  of  a  do- 
mestic economy  which  distributed  the  products  needed  for  sub- 
sistence among'  the  bondsmen,  without  any  commercial  appara- 
tus, or  profit-charges.  That  useless  middleman,  the  retail  pro- 
vision merchant,  was  eliminated.  The  farmer  who  employed 
the  adults  of,  say,  seven  families,  reserved  in  his  own  granary 
out  of  the  crop  reared  by  the  conjoined  agency  of  his  capital 
and  supervision,  and  their  labor,  four  hundred  bushels  of  grain 
for  their  bread.  These  bi-eadstutt',  when  gr:)und  by  his  order, 
were  issued  for  the  daily  food  of  all  the  families,  most  prob- 
ably under  the  mistress"  eye.  Let  us  now  suppose  this  farm 
conducted  by  hired  labor,  representing  the  working  force  of 
seven  families.  The  proprietor  has  no  use  for  these  four  hun- 
dred bushels  of  grain;  he  sells  it  at  the  wholesale  price.  But 
the  laborers  must  eat;  they  buy  the  same  grain  from  the  grocery 
store,  enhanced  by  the  cost  of  two  handlings  and  two  trans- 
poriations,  and  also  by  the  retail  profit.  The  difference  is  that 
the  proprietor  does  not  get  any  more;  and  laborers  pay  much 
moTP  foi  their  subsistence.  The  gross  and  shrewd  fellow  who 
has  intruded  liimself  between  proprietor  and  laborer,  grasjjs  a 
lar.^e  profit,  bur  produces  nothing. 

Yet  the  economists  of  hireling  Srates  have  actually  been 
blind  enough  to  point  to  this  contrast  between  their  countries 
and  th(  htuth,  as  proofs  of  their  thrift.  Their  rural  regions 
are  dotted  over  with  large  and  pretentious  "stores,"  where  the 
coi-n.  wool,  butter,  leather,  and  even  soft-soap,  which  the  labor- 
ers should  have  drawn  directly  from  the  employers,  at  whole- 
sale prices,  are  resold  to  them  at  high  retail  prices,  to  the  ser- 
ious reduction  of  the  avails  of  their  labor,  with  no  compensat- 
ing production  for  tlie  ((nuuiunity  in  an}'  shape.  And  this 
mischievous  bustle  is  called  i»rosperity!  It  would  be  exactly 
]>arallel  to  argue  that  hireling  labor  was  more  gainful,  because 
hireling  societies  had  larger  jails. 

7.  One  more  view  remains,  confirming  and  explaining  the 
superior  economical  results  of  the  Southern  system:  It  is  at 
once  the  most  fundamental  and  the  most  grateful  to  tlu^  jthil- 
antliropic  mind.  Our  system  exerted  a  powerful  influence 
against  unproductive  consumption  of  values,  and  in  favor  of 
productive  consumption;  by  constraining  the  proprietor  to  ap- 


888         FORMER  LABOR  SYSTEM  OF  THE  SOUTHKRN  U.  S. 

inoitriaf*-  the  largest  sbaie  3f  his  annual  revenue  to  his  ser- 
vants' eomfortable  subsisrence.  and  to  suitable  appliances  for 
their  productive  employment  during  the  next  season.  Every 
eeonomist  knows  the  ditference:  every  mind  of  common  sense 
ought  tri  kni\v  it. 

For  instance:  Previous  labor,  with  the  aid  of  capital,  has 
produced  a  half  ton  of  coal.  This  may  be  used  to  form  the  neu- 
cleus  of  a  great  bonfire,  at  a  political  jolliflcaHon.  It  is  so 
consumed  as  to  be  annihilated  as  a  value,  and  that  forever,  leav- 
ing no  production  behind  it.  Or.  it  may  be  used  to  heat  a  charge 
in  the  furnace  of  a  foundry,  by  which  pig-iron  worth  one  and 
one-half  cents  per  pound,  is  converted  into  utensils,  as  tea- 
kettles, stoves,  and  iso  forth,' worth  five  cents  per  pound.  There 
is  a  creation  here  of  new  values  in  the  pre-existing  material 
represented  by  three  and  a  half  cents  per  pc)nnil.  Now  again, 
this  coal  is  consumed:  as  truly  as  in  the  bonfire,  and  is  no  more 
anything  but  vapor  and  ashes.  But  its  value  reappears  in  the 
new  values  of  the  inn  utensils,  and  that  with  increase.  It  needs 
no  arguing,  that  unproductive  consumption  is  destructive  to  all 
increment  of  capital:  and  thus  to  future  production,  by  the 
means  of  that  value;  while  productive  consumption  reproduces 
capital  and  enlarges  it,  thus  providing  for  future  production 
ever  after.  Let  another  fact  be  added,  known  to  all  economists: 
That  the  presence  of  capital  is  one  of  the  most  essential  con- 
ditions fDr  enlarging  the  demand  for  labor,  thus  tending  to 
give  employment  to  more  human  hands,  and  at  better  prices. 

A  weak  and  indeed  wicked  attempt  has  been  made  to  parry 
this  view  by  arguing  that  the  demand  for  luxuries  by  persons 
receiving  large  revenues,  is  favorable  to  the  working  classes: 
inasmuch  as  it  makes  a  market  for  products,  circulates  money, 
and  thus  "encourages  industry."  Thirty  years  ago  we  refuted 
this  doctrine,  in  an  argument  wliich  has  been  several  times 
jeered  at,  but  never  answered. 

The  potent  authority  of  Say  sustained  the  truths  at  that 
earlv  day.  It  is  pleasant  to  find  the  same  correct  view  now 
supported  by  ^lill  and  the  current  of  recent  economists.  The 
outline  of  our  argument  is  this:  That  since  the  consumption 
of  luxuries  is  unproductive  consumi)tion.  notwithstanding  a 
l»artial  and  temporary  gain,  in  the  form  of  wages,  for  the  lux- 
ury produced:  tlie  ultimate  result  is  the  destruction  of  values. 


FORMER  LABOR  SYSTEM  OF  THE  SOUTHERN  U.  S.         889 

the  diniiuiition  of  capital,  and  thus,  an  inevitable  restrictiau  in 
the  demand  for  labor  in  general,  a  decline  in  its  wajies,  and  a 
scarcity  of  the  staple  values,  which  these  pr3ducers  of  luxuries 
should  have  been  creatinji,  for  the  common  j^ood.  Just  in  the 
deji'ree  there  is  luxurious  expenditure  at  the  upi)er  end  of  the 
social  ladder,  there  must  be  destitution  and  misery  at  the  lower 
end,  for  want  of  employment,  and  of  necessary  articles  of  sub- 
sistence. This  is  confirmed  by  the  facts  in  every  luxurious  so- 
ciety on  earth.  This  consumption  of  luxuries  does  not  eu- 
courajie,  but  misdirects  industry.  Now  there  is  more  tlian  one 
way,  in  which  the  hireling  system  promotes  luxurious  and  un- 
productive consumption,  more  than  the  Sauthem  system  did. 
It  has  a  much  stronger  tendency  to  make  the  rich  richer  and 
the  poor  j)Oorer,  to  create  excessive  wealtli  in  a  few  hands.  This 
at  once  enables  and  tempts  the  very  rich  to  this  waste  of  reve- 
nue, so  adverse  to  the  growth  :)f  capital  and  i>ros})edty  of  labor. 
TUit  chietiy  the  hireling  system  r(^leases  pi-()i)rietors  from  a 
wholesome  and  beneficent  check,  which  the  Southern  system 
operated.  To  tlu^  capitalist  who  hires,  the  laborer  is  notliiug 
after  the  production  is  comjdeted.  If  he  [jerislies.  the  employer 
is  not  concerned;  he  has  lost  notliing,  he  has  only  to  step  out 
into  the  teeming  labor  market,  to  fill  the  vacant  place— sucli  an 
employer  then  naturally  feels  more  inclined  to  use  spare  revenue 
in  pomps  and  indulgences.  I'ut  the  S  )uthern  system  made  the 
labor  of  the  African  property,  created  an  omnipotent  motive  in 
the  master  to  pre*;erve  not  only  its  existen<-e.  but  its  health 
and  efficiency,  and  besides,  appealed  to  his  st^lf-respect.  and  to 
the  domestic  tie  to  reinforce  this  obligation.  Hence,  as  soon 
as  the  annual  revenue  was  ascertained,  the  ])ro]>rietor  appro- 
priated, as  a  first  charge  upon  it,  so  much  as  would  subsist  the 
Africans  for  another  year,  and  this  subsistence  must  come  up 
to  such  a  level  as  would  not  only  preserve  their  lives,  but  their 
lu^alth  and  efficiency.  Next,  the  ])roprietor  must  unavoidably 
set  off  so  much,  for  an  addition,  or  reparation  to  his  working 
capital,  as  was  necessary  to  provide  the  full  means  and  appli- 
ances for  the  ensuing  year's  industrial  operations.  And  as  he 
knew  that  he  was  responsible  for  making  that  coming  year  a 
profitable  one.  and  that  the  calamity  of  an  unsuccessful  one 
must  strike  him  first  and  mainly:  both  interest  and  stern  neces- 
sity forbade  his  stinting  that  appropriation.     If  worn  or  an- 


390    FORMER  LABOR  SYSTEM  OF  THE  SOUTHERN  U.  S. 

liquated  tools  and  machinery  needed  to  be  replaced;  if  drainage 
and  permanent  fencinu  weve  called  f^r;  if  the  arrival  of  new 
laborers  at  adnlt  age  called  for  a  larger  area  of  land  to  be  either 
cleared  or  purchased;  all  these  must  perforce  form  a  prior 
charge  on  revenue.  Xor  until  both  these  demands  were  met. 
and  met  without  grudging,  could  one  dollar  of  revenue  be  taken 
for  superfluities.  Tf  n)  surplus  remained,  the  results  were  per- 
fectly simjilf-:  ^fadame  must  just  postpone  the  purchase  of 
the  new  carriage  or  carpet.  Mademoiselle  must  just  do  with- 
out the  new  pian:>  another  season.  Young  master  must  forego 
the  blood  saddle-horse,  and  even,  in  all  ])robability  put  off  the 
University;  and  go  to  teaching  for  a  year,  instead,  so  as  to  earn 
money  to  pay  his  own  education. 

This  picture  is  perfectly  sustained  by  all  who  know  the 
two  sections  by  personal  observation.  I'artisans  spoke  of  the 
South  as  ''the  aristocratic  section."  But  while  her  proprietoi^s 
sought  solid  comfort,  kept  a  good  table,  chiefly  from  the  re- 
sources of  the  mistresses'  admirable  skill,  devotion  and  econ- 
omy, as  housewives;  and  always  practiced  a  liberal  and  social 
hospitality,  men  of  equal  wealth  usually  expended  about  one- 
ftftli  of  the  sums  wasted  by  their  Xortheru  equals,  in  equipage 
and  luxuries.  In  one  prosperous  trading  town  of  the  Xorth  you 
should  find  more  palatial  residences  than  in  all  the  Southern 
continent  from  the  Potomac  to  the  Gulf.  The  good,  solid,  plain, 
old  ancestral  dwelling  of  the  planter  owning  .flOO.OOO,  would 
have  been  pulled  away  as  rubbish  by  the  New  York  man.  who 
had  gotten  his  |50.()(Ml.  and  was  setting  up  liis  home  on  Sixth 
(not  to  say  Fifthi  avenue.  Two  RichnioiHl  merchants,  in  New 
York  before  the  war,  were  taking  the  air  in  Fifth  avenue.  They 
]»assed  the  new  glittering  palace  of  a  parvenue  manufacturer. 
After  admiring  its  costly  elegance,  the  younger  pointed  his 
friend  to  a  smaller  house  in  the  rear,  with  brown-stone  walls 
and  plate  glass  windows,  asking.  ''Can  you  surmise.  B.,  what 
that  is?"  B.  could  not.  "Why.  that  is  the  owner's  stable." 
"Then."  exclaimed  B.,  "I  wonder  if  he  would  not  let  me  be  his 
horse?"  Old  ^Nlr.  B.'s  jest  was  perfectly  so'ber;  although  he 
was,  in  descent,  in  integrity,  in  courtesy  and  in  intelligence, 
truly  a  merchant  prince;  the  dwelling  which  he  inherited  from 
a  distinguished  father,  and  in  which  he  was  then  dispensing  an 
elegant  hospitality  and  rearing  a  cultivated  family,  had  a  much 


FORMER  LABOR  SYSTEM  OF  THE  SOUTHERN  U.  S.         391 

less  pretentious  exterior  than  the  parvenue's  stable.  This  con- 
trast was  typical. 

It  is  easy  for  the  economist  to  infer  how  promotive  of  solid 
progressive  wealth  that  system  must  have  been,  which  regu- 
larly laid  its  prior  liens  on  revenue,  in  favor  of  the  productive 
laborers  and  the  producing  capital,  instead  of  luxuries  and 
iciuipage.  and  the  costly  })omps  of  unproductive  architecture. 

And  it  is  easy  for  the  heart  of  the  philanthi-opist  to  decide 
which  is  the  more  pleasing  aspect:  that  which  treated  the  la- 
borers employed  as  mere  tools  of  production,  to  be  discarded 
when  used;  or  that  which  ensured  their  having  the  prior  lien 
on  the  profits  of  their  own  labor? 


MEMOIRS  OF  FRANCIS  S.  SAMPSON,  I).  D. 


PEE  FACE. 


The  board  of  directors  of  Union  Seminary,  at  their  annual 
meeting-  after  the  dearli  of  Dr.  Sampson,  determined  that  it  was 
proper  t3  present  to  the  churches,  his  brethren,  and  former  pu- 
pils, some  memorial  of  his  Christian  and  professional  character. 
They  requested  me  to  prepare  such  a  sketch;  and  the  following 
sketch  is  the  result.  So  far  as  a  full  and  intimate  acc^uaintance 
wirh  his  life,  tirsr  as  a  pupil,  and  rhen  as  a  colleague,  can  (null- 
ify one  for  such  a  task,  rhat  (jualitication  I  possess.  And  if  an 
ardent  personal  attachment  unfits  one  to  draw  the  character  of 
its  object  impartially.  I  must  confess  to  rliis  disciualification.  It 
is  for  those  who  knew  Dr.  Sampson  as  well  as  I  did,  to  judge 
whether  the  jiortraiture  is  accurate.  I  can  express  no  better 
wish  towards  all  his  brethren  and  former  pupils,  than  that  the 
reading  of  this  humble  tribute  to  their  bst  friend,  may  give 
them  the  same  mournful  delight,  and  the  same  elevating  and 
purifying  lessons,  which  its  preparation  has  given  me.  It  is 
now  affectionately  dedicated  to  the  Alumni  of  Union  Theologi- 
cal Seminary,  to  the  candidates  fjr  the  ministry,  and  to  the 
Christian  young  men  of  the  Synods  of  North  Carolina  and  Vir- 
ginia. 

A  life,  spent,  like  Dr.  Sampson's,  far  from  the  stormier 
scenes  of  the  world,  amidst  scholastic  shades,  offers  little  ma- 
terial for  narrative.  I  have,  therefore,  only  attempted,  after 
giving  a  brief  outline  of  his  uneventful  life,  to  unfold  the  na- 
ture of  his  work  and  his  character,  and  to  indicate  some  of  those 
lessons  which  they  teach  us. 

ROBERT  L.  DABNEY. 
Union  Theological  Seminary,  \n. 
May  28th,  1855. 


INTRODUCTORY  OUTLINE. 


Dr.  Sampson  was  the  son  of  Mr.  Richard  Sampson,  an  em- 
inent and  respected  agricultnrist  in  the  neighborhood  of  the 
Dover  Mills,  in  the  county  of  (loochland.  He  ^Yas  born  between 
the  1st  and  otli  of  Xovember,  A.  D.  1814.  In  1830,  he  was 
placed  at  the  school,  and  in  the  faiuily  of  that  man  of  God.  ReA'. 
Thornton  Rogers,  of  Albemarle,  who  was  his  maternal  nncle. 
Here  he  made  a  profession  of  religion,  was  baptized,  and  be- 
came a  member  of  the  Presbyterian  church  in  Charlottesville, 
then  in  charge  of  Rev.  Francis  Bowman,  on  the  13th  of  August, 
1831.  The  10th  of  September  of  the  same  year,  he  entered  the 
UniA'ersity  of  Virginia,  and  continued  his  studies  there  till  July, 
183G,  taking-  a  very  extensive  and  thorough  course  of  study,  not 
only  in  the  academic  departments,  but  in  the  schools  of  junior 
law.  auatouiy  and  pliysiology,  and  securing  the  degree  of  M.  A. 
which  was  then,  as  now.  attained  by  very  few.  November  9th. 
183().  he  entered  Union  Theolngical  Seminary,  Va.  On  the  resig- 
nation i)f  Professor  Ballantine.  in  tlie  s])ring  of  1838,  he  was 
made  teacher  of  Hebrew,  and  from  that  time  continued  to  per- 
form other  duties  of  the  oriental  department.  He  was  licensed 
by  East  Hanover  Presbytery  in  October,  1839,  and  ordained  as 
an  evangelist  by  the  same  Presbytery  in  October,  1841.  In  July, 
1848,  he  took  a  journey  to  Europe,  for  the  prosecution  of  his 
oriental  studies,  and  returned  in  August,  1849,  having  spent 
the  year  chietly  at  the  Univtn-sities  of  Halle  and  Berlin.  lu 
October,  1848,  he  was  elected  professor  of  oriental  literature  and 
languages  in  the  Seminary;  but  he  had  for  many  years  per- 
formed the  work  of  a  full  professor,  though  with  the  title  and 
compensation  of  an  assistant,  and  had  long  been  esteemed  as 
second  to  none  of  his  colleagues  in  the  value  of  his  labors. 
About  the  time  of  his  return  from  (lermany,  he  also  received 
the  honorary  degree  of  D,  D.  from  Hampden  Sidney  college. 
He  fell  asleep  Sabbath,  the  9th  of  April,  1854.  only  tliirty-nine 
years  and  five  months  old. 

Thus  brief  and  uneventful  is  the  record  of  his  life,  which 
was  passed  almost  wholly  in  the  quiet  shades  of  colleges.  But 
the  results  of  this  life  have  not  therefore  been  uuimi)ortant. 
The  atti^mpt  will  be  made  to  draw  the  features  of  his  character 
as  a  Cliristian  and  Christian  minister,  a  scholar  and  an  instruc- 
tor, in  order  that  we  may  praise  Cod  for  his  grace  manifested 
in  him,  and  may  receive  the  advantages  of  an  example  most 
modest,  and  vet  illustrious. 


CHAPTER  I. 

Person    and    Constitution.       Dignity    and    Courtesj'   of   Manner.     Early 
Habits  and  ^Maxims.     Influence  of  Example  in  a  Different  Sphere 

Dr.  8ampsou  was  in  pei-.suu  light  aud  jjii-aceful,  and  of  a 
florid  complexion.  Alrlioiio;!!  liis  family  lias  shown  pulmonary 
tendencies  in  several  of  its  members,  and  his  own  lungs  were 
ultimately  much  impaired  in  their  soundness,  for  the  first  thirty 
years.of  his  life  he  enjoyed,  by  virtue  of  great  temperance,  most 
uniform  health,  and  endured  an  immense  amount  of  severe 
study.  After  he  reached  that  age,  he  was  gradually  broken 
down  by  several  attacks  of  acute  disease,  and  though  his  health 
gave  a  delusive  promise  of  restoration  the  last  year  of  his  life. 
he  finally  fell  bef  jre  a  short  and  violent  attack  of  pneumonia. 

His  personal  habits,  as  to  diet,  sleep  and  recreation,  were 
simple,  methodical  and  teniperate,  without  being  ascetic.     His 
dress  was  scrupulously  neat  and  ai)propriate,  without  the  faint- 
est approach  to  display.    In  his  ai)proaches  to  his  fellow  men 
there  was  the  happiest  union  of  unaffected  modesty  and  grace- 
ful quietude  with  Christian  dignity.     Yet  his  was  a  dignity 
which  repelled  no  advances  of  affection  or  confidence,  nor  any- 
thing but  impertinence.     His  friends  who  most  desired  to  see 
him  shine  in  society  as  his  solid  worth  entitled  him,  sometimes 
accounted  him  too  modest.    Yet,  with  a  modesty  which  almost 
amounted  to  difiidence,  he  w^as  the  farthest  of  all  men  from  a 
Timid  or  truckling  expression  of  his  opinions.     When  an  er- 
roneous sentiment  which  he  conceived  to  be  of  any  impoi'tance 
was  thrust  upon  him  in  conversation,  he  most  distinctly  de- 
fended his  own  opinion,  with  a   singnhir  union  of  inflexible, 
even  impracticable  mental  honesty  and  courteous  deference. 
He  was  the  last  man  in  the  world  to  be  wheedled  into  the  soft- 
ening of  a  truth  down,  or  the  admission  of  a  faint  shade  of  the 
error  he  had  been  opposing,  by  any  of  the  blandishments  of 
politeness,  or  by  the  fear  of  seeming  too  pertinacious.     :Much 
of  the  singular  amiability  of  his  social  character  is  no  doubt  to 
be  attributed  to  the  influence  of  grace.    Had  he  grown  u].  un- 


MEMOIRS    OF   FRANCIS   S.    SAMPSON,   D.    D.  395 

convei'ted,  lip  would  have  been  known  as  a  man  of  hisli  and 
determined  temper,  of  energetic  will,  and  persevering'  activity. 
Divine  grace  softened  what  was  violent,  and  refined  what  was 
valuable  in  this  remperament,  until  the  result  was  a  rare  and 
lovely  union  of  the  strong  and  the  sweet. 

One  of  Dr.  Ir^ampson's  most  striking  and  valuable  natural 
traits  was  his  methodical  industi-y.  To  any  one  who  knows  his 
anoestrj',  it  is  very  plain  that  this  (luality  was  received  from 
them,  both  by  inheritance  and  inculcation.  That  whatever  is 
worth  doing,  is  worth  drting  well;  that  each  task  must  be  done 
with  one's  might,  in  just  so  much  rinu'  as  is  needed  to  do  it  per- 
fectly, and  no  more;  that  no  task  is  to  be  left  till  all  is  perfected 
which  can  be  done  to  advantage;  these  were  the  rules  of  work- 
ing whicli  he  cari-ied  with  him  fi-om  the  honu'  of  his  boyhood  to 
the  school,  the  university,  the  study,  the  lecture  room.  The 
same  thoroughness,  the  same  deep  ploughing,  the  same  com- 
plete harrowing,  the  same  utter  extirpation  of  obstructions,  the 
same  perfect  finish  which  characterized  the  farm  of  his  father, 
prevailed  in  his  scholarshijt  and  instructions.  It  would  be  hard 
to  estimate  how  much  of  liis  usefulness  and  ability  was  due 
to  the  example  and  habits  thus  impressed  on  his  youth.  And 
we  cannot  but  admire  the  wisdom  of  Providence  in  training, 
on  such  a  field  and  by  agencies  so  unconscious  of  the  divine 
purposes,  a  (pialily  which  was  afterwards  to  do  so  much  good 
in  a  higher  and  nobler  sphere  of  duty.  Dr.  Sampson,  the  emi- 
nent hebraist,  the  profound  expositor,  the  masterly  instructor, 
was  but  the  far-seeing,  energetic,  able  farmer  reproduced  on 
another  field  of  action. 


CHAPTER  II. 


p]nters  Rev.  Thornton  Ptogers'  School.  Reliaious  Impressions.  Decision. 
Personal  Covenant.  Diary.  University  of  Virginia.  Christian 
Activity  there.  Dr.  White's  Testimony.  Goes  to  Union  Theological 
Seminary.     Zeal.     Devotional  Spirit.     Humility.     Liberality. 

We  cannot  proceed  farther,  without  attempting  to  draw  his 
(Mirisrian  character.  This  was  in  several  respects  singular:  but 
in  most,  singularly  excellent.  The  neighborhood  in  which  he 
grew  u}).  was  very  irregularly  supplied  with  the  preaching  of 


396  MEMOIRS   OF   FRANCIS    S.   SAMPSON,   D.    D. 

the  Gospel,  and  was  wholly  unblessed  with  a  sound  pastoral 
influence.  Consequentl3\  domestic  religion  and  pious  training 
were  nearly  unknown.  From  a  brief  diary  which  Dr.  Sampsjn 
kept  during-  a  i)art  of  the  session  of  1833-4,  we  Learn  that  when 
he  went  to  the  Rev.  Mr.  Rogers'  school,  he  did  not  possess  a 
Bible  of  his  own,  and  had  never  read  more  than  very  limited 
portions  of  it  in  his  life.  His  character  was  wholly  irreligious; 
and  he  was  given  to  all  the  light  and  corrupting  amusements  of 
fashionable  young  persons.  But  he  tells  us,  that  the  only  out- 
breaking vice  in  which  he  indulged,  was  profane  swearing;  and 
this  he  contracted  at  the  age  of  twelve,  from  vexation  in  a 
game  of  whist,  in  which  he  had  an  unusually  bad  hand.  With 
such  a  character,  he  found  himself  in  a  new  world,  in  the  well- 
ordered.  Christian  family  of  his  uncle.  There  the  word  of  God 
was  daily  read,  and  his  name  revtM-ently  worshij)j»ed  in  the  fam- 
ily. Although  little  personal  exhortation  was  addressed  to  him 
concerning  his  sins  ami  impenitence,  he  saw  daily  illustrations 
of  the  excellence  and  peace  of  Christian  principles,  in  the  har- 
monious happiness  of  a  pious  house,  where  ^'brethren  dwelt 
together  in  unity";  and  above  all,  where  the  beauty  of  holiness 
shone  from  the  example  of  the  godly  father,  as  he  presided  in 
the  family  and  school  room.  In  consequence  chiefly  of  these 
silent  teachings,  he  gradually  f(dl  into  a  state  of  profauud  re- 
ligious concern,  wliich  continued  about  twelve  months.  His 
feelings  were  studiously  concealed  from  all,  rhrough  fear  of 
ridicule;  and  the  love  of  sin  led  him  to  put  forth  many  and  bit- 
ter struggles  against  the  Spirit.  ]^>ut  the  God  wlio  loved  him 
would  not  let  him  go;  and  liis  convictions  were  from  time  to 
rime  strengthened.  In  the  spring  of  1831,  he  chanced  to  hear 
a  sermon  from  the  Rev.  Mr.  Staunton,  then  of  Prince  Edward, 
from  the  text,  ''Secret  things  belong  unto  the  Lord  thy  G3d,'" 
which  was  the  means  of  sweeping  away  all  his  objections  and 
excuses.  His  convictions  now  became  so  pungent  that  they 
compelled  him  to  an  outward  refoi'm  of  liis  life,  and  to  set 
about  seeking  a  present  Saviour  in  earnest.  But  the  fear  of 
reproach  and  love  of  sin  still  made  desperate  struggles.  On  one 
occasion,  while  several  of  his  school  fellows  were  engaged  with 
him  in  a  game  of  marbles,  one  of  them  sneeringly  observed, 
"Frank  must  be  getting  pious.  Do  you  notice,  boys,  that  he  has 
not  been  heard  to  swear  for  a  fortnight?''     This  taunt  stung 


MEMOIRS   Ot^  FRANCIS   S.    SAMPSON,   D.    D.  'S^7 

liim  to  rlic  (jiiii-k;  and  to  show  that  iie  Avas  not  jiistlv  liable 
to  rheii'  insinuation,  he  took  the  very  tirst  plausible  occasion  tj 
throw  out  a  most  pi-ofane  oath!  But  this  heaven-darinj^-  act 
was  made  the  crisis  of  his  i-ebellion.  For,  his  remorse,  alarm  of 
conscience,  and  fear  of  having  grieved  the  Holy  Spirit,  together 
with  his  convictions  of  the  corruption  of  his  nature,  and  im- 
potence of  his  own  resolutions  for  piety  became  immediately 
so  agonizing,  that  he  was  compelled  to  retire,  and  cast  himself 
at  once  upon  the  Saviour's  mercy.  From  this  hour,  his  soul 
seems  to  have  been  built  upon  the  rock  Christ  Jesus;  and  his 
face  w^as  turned  decisively  lieavenward.  He  now  first  divulged 
his  religious  feelings  to  his  uncle,  in  a  letter  which  he  handed 
him  without  seal  or  signature,  and  which  detailed  his  struggles, 
his  ignorance,  his  decision  to  be  on  the  Lord's  side,  and  his 
dawning  peace. 

Mr.  Rogers  had  often  made  his  salvation  the  subject  of  his 
secret  wrestling  with  God.  But  so  complete  had  been  the  con- 
cealment of  Dr.  Sampson's  convictions,  that  his  uncle  was  at 
this  very  time  almost  in  despair  of  his  conversion.  And  though 
Dr.  Sampson  had  ever  been  docile  and  industrious  in  everything 
else,  so  impressed  was  his  uncle  with  the  evil  influence  which 
his  profanity  might  exert  in  his  family,  that  he  had  seriously 
considered  the  best  means  of  removing  him.  As  he  was  the 
son  of  a  beloved  sister,  he  had  seriously  thought  of  disbanding 
his  school  for  a  time,  as  the  least  painful  mode  of  securing  this 
end.  Indeed,  he  had  only  been  deterred  by  intercessions  of 
others,  from  carrying  this  purpose  into  effect.  How-  delightful, 
then,  must  have  been  the  surprise  with  which  he  received  this 
letter,  telling  him  that  the  great  work  had  gone  on  so  far  under 
ground?  This  curious  incident  may  carry  home  two  truths  to 
us,  ''That  we  should  not  be  weary  in  well  doing;  for  in  due 
season  we  shall  reap  if  we  faint  not";  and  that  much  of  the 
seed  of  truth  which  we  sow-  is  often  lost,  or  smothered,  for  want 
of  more  constant  and  tender  nursing. 

But  Dr.  Sampson  was  more  the  spiritual  child  of  the  Rev. 
Thornton  Rogers,  than  of  any  other  person.  He  has  often  said 
lliat  the  means  which  efficaciously  awakened  him  out  of  death 
in  trespasses  and  sins,  was  no^  so  much  any  particular  sernKui 
or  warning,  as  the  holy  and  consistent  life  of  his  uncle.     This 


398  MEMOIKS   OF    FRA:MCIS   S.    SAMPSOjST,    t>.    D 

was  to  liim  the  seniion.  the  rebuke,  the  'iiving  episrk^■■  whirh 
revealed  to  him  his  spiritual  necessities. 

Xo  man  since  the  Apostle  Paul  could  use  more  truthfully 
his  language,  "When  it  pleased  (jod  who  separated  me  from 
my  mother's  womb,  and  called  me  by  his  grace,  to  reveal  his 
Son  in  me,  immediately  I  conferred  not  with  flesh  and  blood." 
Dr.  Sampson  was  about  to  leave  his  uncle's  roof,  where  alone 
he  could  expect  to  fiud  any  religious  sympathy  among  his  own 
friends,  to  return  far  a  few  weeks  to  his  native  neighborhood, 
in  which  every  affectionate  attention  of  his  relatives  would  be 
a  temptation,  and  where  there  were  no  sanctuary  privileges  nor 
Christian  communings  to  help  him  on  his  way.  Thence  he  was 
to  go,  in  the  early  autumn,  to  the  University  of  Virginia — an 
institution  opened  only  six  years  before  under  infidel  auspices, 
without  prayers,  chaplain,  Bible  class,  Sabbath  school — yea,  we 
may  say,  without  Sabbath;  so  that  almost  all  godly  parents  kept 
their  sons  away  from  it  with  a  pious  dread;  and  vital  religion 
was  nearly  unknown  among  its  students. 

We  have  seen  the  strong  and  almost  fatal  hold  which  the 
fear  of  ridicule  had  on  his  natural  heart.  Yet,  from  the  mo- 
ment his  stand  was  taken,  although  but  a  youth  of  sixteen,  fear 
was  at  an  end.  A  courage  more  fixed  than  that  of  man,  had 
taken  possession  of  his  breast.  One  of  his  first  acts  after  con- 
fessing Christ,  was  ta  prepare  a  written  address  to  his  school- 
mates, intended  for  the  close  of  the  session,  in  which  he  urges 
upon  them  the  claims  of  Christianity.  These  were  the  same 
school  mates,  whose  ridicule  had  a  little  before  almost  driven 
him  to  reject  the  Holy  Ghost  I  In  his  address,  he  discusses  the 
following  causes,  which  induce  irreligious  men  to  postpone  at- 
tention to  the  Grospel:  "An  unwarranted  dependence  on  the 
general  mercy  of  God;  objections  to  the  incomprehensible  mys- 
teries contained  in  the  Bible;  and  especially,  the  incomprehen- 
sibility of  the  doctrine  of  a  Trinity;  cavils  against  the  number 
of  sects  into  which  Christians  are  divided,  and  their  bickerings; 
and  skeptical  doubts  of  the  truth  of  the  Scriptures."  These 
points  are  discussed,  without  striking  originality  indeed,  but 
with  a  distinctness  of  thought,  order  and  justice,  most  remark- 
able in  a  school  boy:  and  the  temper  of  the  address  is  marked 
by  a  happy  union  of  Christian  boldness  and  affection. 

The  same  decision  of  religious  character  marked  all  his 


Memoirs  oP  PnAitct^  s.  sAMp&oi^,  D.  b.  39^) 

Christiaii  course.  His  religion  was  uow  everyrliiug-.  His  JJible 
was  almost  his  only  couipanioii,  aui3n<;-  doc/ks.  The  fad  that 
he  learned  so  little  of  Christianity  through  the  colored  and 
somewhait  distorted  medium,  in  which  it  is  presented  b}-  the 
prescriptive  religious  habits  and  expressions  of  even  good  peo- 
ple, but  drew  his  religi:)us  ideas  direct  from  the  Word  of  God, 
under  the  teachings  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  may  account  for  much 
of  the  excellence  and  symmetry  of  his  religious  character.  In 
all  his  intercourse  with  relatives  and  as.sociates,  in  his  amuse- 
ments and  devotions,  in  everything,  the  desire  to  please  God  was 
ui)permost. 

There  yet  exists  a  correspondence  of  considerable  bulk,  ex- 
tending through  the  five  years  of  his  University  course,  and 
later,  with  two  favorite  female  cousins.  In  these  letters,  the 
desire  to  benefit  their  souls  and  his  own,  is  ever  the  prominent, 
almost  the  sole  concern.  The  great  topic  is  approached  at  once, 
without  squeamish  circumlocutions,  but  with  atfectionate  dig- 
nitA'  and  delicacy.  His  correspondents  are  continually  reminded, 
that  the  chief  aim  and  glory  of  a  (.'hristian  friendship  should 
be,  to  give  and  receive  edification,  by  the  interchange  of  ex- 
periences and  advice.  He  has  no  news  or  gossip  to  detail.  Even 
from  the  first  year  of  his  Christian  life,  these  letters  show  a 
depth  of  experience  and  a  range  and  fullness  of  Christian 
knowledge,  such  as  we  would  expect  from  a  mature  saint.  From 
them  and  his  brief  diary,  we  learn  with  what  punctuality  and 
solemn  diligence  he  engaged  in  the  study  of  God's  Word,  search- 
ing his  own  heart,  and  secret  prayer,  as  tlie  first  great  business 
of  each  day. 

We  learn  he  declined  living  with  a  room  mate  during  his 
.second  session,  because  his  room  mate  the  previous  session, 
though  amiable  and  moral,  was  unconverted;  and  his  presence 
robbed  him  of  his  regular  hours  for  secret  devotion.  In  this 
exigency  he  was  accustomed  to  resort  to  a  wooded  mountain 
hard  by,  for  communion  with  God.  And  when,  at  the  beginning 
of  his  third  session,  he  received  into  his  room  a  young  gentle- 
man like-minded  to  himself,  who  afterwards  'became  a  most  in- 
timate Christian  friend,  an  arrangement  was  mad(-  for  retire- 
ment, as  well  as  daily  social  prayer.  From  this  friend  we  learn 
that  when  the  hour  of  secret  prayer  found  him  languid  and  in- 
disposed to  devotion,  instead  of  making  such  a  state  a  pretext 


400  MEMOIRS   or    FRANCIS    S.    SAMPSON,   D.    t 

for  tile  postpoiHMiiciir  of  the  dury.  ho  f'i»im(l  in  it  a  i»(»\v(M-fu]  mo- 
tive foi'  it>s  iiioi-e  (liligeut  perfoi-iuaiice.  Hovvevei-  fatigued  or 
overworked,  he  would  take  his  Uible  and  read  and  meditate  till 
lie  could  bnv  his  knees  in  the  proper  frame,  saying  that  this 
languor  and  eolduess  were  the  very  evidences  that  he  needed 
fervent  prayer  at  that  special  time. 

The  first  of  January,  1834,  he  held  a  solemn  review  of  the 
l)ast  year,  and  the  state  of  his  soul,  and  entered  into  a  formal 
written  covenant,  to  which  his  name  is  attached,  engaging,  with 
divine  assistance,  to  live  a  life  of  entire  devotion.  The  form  of 
covenant  is  marked  as  a  quotation.  Although  conceived  very 
mucli  in  the  terms  of  the  one  given  in  Doddridge's  Rise  and 
I'rogress,  for  the  young  Christian  covenanting  with  God,  it  is 
not  copied  thence;  and  the  source  from  which  it  was  taken  is 
not  known.  Perhaps  it  is  enough  to  say  that  it  is  couched  in 
terms  of  most  devout  and  humble  confession,  ardent  breath- 
ings after  holiness,  and  adoring  reverence  of  the  divine  perfec- 
tions. Though  the  subsequent  diary  shows  that  those  alterna- 
tions of  strength  and  weakness,  joy  and  isorrow,  were  not  wholly 
unknown  to  him,  which  are  found  in  the  experience  of  all  em- 
inent saints,  yet  this  era  was  no  doubt  a  new  starting  point  to 
his  soul  in  its  religious  race. 

It  is  a  characteristic  fact  that  this  diary,  after  having  been 
punctually  kept  for  several  months,  was  discontinued.  The 
ground  assigned  at  its  close  was,  that  he  began  to  suspect  him- 
self of  coloring  the  statements  of  his  feelings,  from  an  involun- 
tary reference  to  their  being  some  day  seen  by  others,  and  he 
feared  that  thus  his   Christian  sincerity  might  be  corrupted! 

Such  holy  diligence  in  prayer,  such  singleness  of  aim  and 
such  watchfulness,  could  not  fail  of  their  reward.  He  seems 
to  have  lived  in  the  habitual  exercise  of  religious  joy;  and  often 
his  soul  mounted  up  with  wings  like  eagles.  It  is  believed  that 
from  his  conversion  to  the  day  of  his  death,  no  serious  cloud 
ever  overshadowed  his  assurance.  He  lived  continually  under 
the  peaceful  light  of  a  sure  hope!  How  fully  was  the  truth 
verified,  in  his  Christian  courage,  consistency  and  intense  ac- 
tivity for  God,  "The  joy  of  the  Lord  is  your  strength?" 

His  position  as  a  pious  student  among  two  hundred  and 
fifty  thoughtless  young  men,  gave  ample  occasion  to  illustrate 
his  Christian  decision.    But  yet,  this  quality  was  so  admirably 


Memoirs  of  francis  s.  sampson,  d.  d.  401 

tempered  with  modesty  and  kindness,  that  it  secured,  instead  of 
enmity,  almost  universal  respect.  His  manner  was  quiet,  sim- 
ple, and  unobtrusive.  His  religion  was  never  thrust  upon  the 
notice  of  any  one;  but  when  any  assault  was  made  upon  his 
principle.s,  they  were  found  immovable.  He  was  oibliging  to 
all,  even  to  the  profane,  wherever  the  sacrifice  of  conscience 
was  not  asked  for.  So  kindly  and  unpharisaic  was  his  demeanor, 
that  many,  then  entirely  irreligious,  became  warmly  attached 
to  him,  and  his  usual  college  name  was  "Neighbor  Sampson." 
Yet,  so  sincere  was  the  respect  for  his  principles,  a  thoughtless 
and  profane  student  was  heard  once  to  remark,  "I  canU  swear 
before  Neighbor  vSampson";  adding  that  there  was  no  other 
Christian  student  in  the  University  to  whom  he  would  pay  the 
tribute  of  such  a  self-restraint.  It  is  doubted  wlietlier  a  single 
raint,  or  one  word  disrespectful  to  his  religion,  was  ever  offered 
liim  with  malicious  intent  among  all  the  hundreds  of  ungodly 
young  men  by  whom  he  was  surrounded. 

Let  this  be  an  effectual  lesson  to  every  young  person,  who 
shall  read  the  character  of  this  man  of  Grod,  never  more  to  be 
held  in  bondage  by  the  fear  of  reproach  or  ridicule.  An  honest, 
(■hristian  courage  commands  the  involuntary  homage  of  the 
worst.  It  is  weakness  and  inconsistency  which  provoke  the 
gibe  and  sneer.  Dr.  Sampson  was  not  protected  from  them  by 
any  of  those  brilliant  popular  talents  which  dazzle  the  imagina- 
tion of  young  men;  for  his  abilities  were  not  then  appreciated. 
He  was  regarded  as  a  plain  and  unpretending  joung  man, 
whose  conduct  was  spotlessly  consistent,  and  whose  Christian 
courage  was  unshakable.  It  was  this  which  covered  him,  amidst 
the  most  heaven-daring  sinners,  with  a  shield  of  affectionate 
respect. 

The  next  trait  of  his  Christian  character  to  be  noted,  was: 
His  strict  conscientiousness.  Never  have  we  known  a  Christian 
who  seemed  more  habitually  to  walk 

"As  ever  in  his  great  task-master's  eye." 

This  conscientiousness  was  seen  in  the  minutest  pecuniary 
transactions,  and  in  the  scrupulous  care  with  which  he  used 
tlie  interests  and  i»r()i)erty  of  the  Seminary,  and  of  those  who 
entrusted  their  concerns  to  him.  That  word  of  our  Lord  was 
to  him  a  living  precept,  "He  that  is  faithful  in  that  which  is 
least,  is  faithful  also  in  much;  and  he  that  is  unjust  in  I  he 
least,  is  unjust  also  in  much." 


402  MEMOIRS    OF   Fi4ANClS   S.     SAMPSON,    D.    0. 

Instances  of  liis  scrupulousness  might  be  mentioned,  wliicli 
some  might  almost  regard  as  showing  a  "morbid  conscience." 
We  can  only  say — Would  to  God  that  all  his  people  were  in- 
fected with  the  same  disease.  There  was  nothing  morbid  or 
exaggerated  in  his  Christian  character.  On  the  CDntrarv,  uni- 
formity and  good  sense  were  its  peculiar  traits. 

As  instances  of  his  conscientiousness,  take  the  following: 

We  find  him  determining  that  he  cannot  lend  his  notes  of 
the  professors"  lectures  (for  he  was  a  famous  note  taker)  to  fel- 
low students  who  studied  them  on  the  Sabbath.  Although,  in 
all  other  cases,  unbounded  in  his  kindness,  where  he  had  reason 
to  believe  that  they  would  be  so  abused,  he  inflexibly  exacted 
their  return  on  Saturday.  We  find  him,  in  every  friendly  letter, 
zealous  to  communicate  some  spiritual  gift;  and  on  his  return 
from  social  visits,  he  frequently  taxed  himself  vrith  unfaithful- 
ness, because  he  had  been  satisfied  with  the  innocence  of  his 
social  enjoyments,  and  had  not  enough  watched  for  openings 
to  speak  for  Christ. 

On  a  visit  to  his  beloved  Christian  relatives  in  Albemarle, 
he  not  only  seeks  to  do  good  to  his  cousins,  but  seized  an  op- 
portunity to  "go  into  the  kitchen  at  his  grand-father's  and  talk 
with  old  aunt  Bett^-,  the  cook,  about  Christ,  his  righteousness 
and  atonement,  our  weakness  and  dependence  on  him.  and  the 
glorious  prospects  of  the  Christian,  and  encourage  her  to  can- 
stant  prayer.  She  thanked  me  for  my  advice;  and  said  she  re- 
joiced in  the  Lord,  and  prayed  that  the  Lord  would  make  me 
happy  and  useful.  She  said  she  was  so  glad  that  I  had  come 
and  talked  with  her  about  Chidst.  How  happy  is  it.  to  be  with 
a  Christian,  whether  white  or  black  1  How  good  is  my  Grod, 
who  revealeth  himself  to  the  poor  and  the  ignorant,  that  feel 
their  need  of  himl  While  I  talked  with  this  kindred  spirit,  my 
own  soul  was  quickened,  and  the  tear  of  sympathy  dropped 
down  my  cheek.  The  old  woman  cannot  read.  Lord  bless  her 
soul,  and  give  her  grace,  knowledge  and  true  religion,  with  all 
its  comforts.  Let  thy  blessing  rest  on  all  with  whom  I  con- 
versed about  Christ." 

A  few  lines  further  we  read  this : 

"Was  detained  by  rain  longer  than  I  intended,  rnile 
Thornton  lent  me  a  horse  to  ride  l)ack.  Conversed  with  the  ser- 
vant who  came  with  me.  about  the  danger  of  his  immortal  soul; 


MEAfOiRS  OF  FRANCI8  S.   SAMPSON,  B.  B.  403 

endeavored  to  make  plain  to  him  the  way  of  salvation,  and 
showed  him  how  reasonable  it  would  be  for  God  to  cut  him  otT 
in  his  sins,  before  he  could  repent.  Lord  bless  him  wiili  salva- 
tion." 

And  this,  reader,  was  not  in  the  glow  of  a  first  love,  noi-  iu 
a  season  of  religious  excitement.  He  had  been  a  professed 
<'hristian  nearly  three  years.  How  many  ministers  of  the  gos- 
l>e]  may  feel  rebuke  from  these  examples  of  evangelical  zeal  in 
a  young  college  student  I 

In  a  like  diligent  spirit  we  tind  him  pert jrming  each  daily 
task,  "as  unto  God  and  not  man,"  regulating  his  diet  with 
solemn  Christian  self-denial,  because  he  found  himself  some- 
times indisposed,  by  partial  excess,  to  prayer  and  meditation, 
and  exerting  his  influence  for  good  over  his  comrades  by  every 
means. 

In  his  walks  for  recreation,  he  met  with  a  plain  but  respec- 
table countryman,  seriously  inclined,  though  not  a  believer;  and 
this  casual  acquaintance  was  improved,  to  set  on  foot  a  Sabbath 
school  in  the  mountains,  and  to  seidc  the  salvation  of  the  far- 
mer and  his  wife,  by  repeated  visits,  and  careful  instruction. 

When  he  had  fully  dedicated  himself  to  the  ministry-,  and 
to  the  foreign  missionary  work,  which,  he  then  supposed,  was 
to  be  his  destination,  he  thrust  aside  obstacles  to  his  great  pur- 
pose, with  a  heroic  self-denial,  which  can  never  be  known,  un- 
til the  day  which  reveals  the  secrets  of  all  hearts.  In  all  the 
domestic  relations  of  his  subsequent  life,  in  the  duties  of  fam- 
ily devotions,  in  his  functions  as  master  and  father,  the  inmate 
of  his  household  could  clearly  jierceive  that  (Jod  was  continual- 
ly before  his  eyes.  As  an  officer  of  the  Seminary  he  was  ever 
at  his  post,  with  conscientious  diligence.  No  sickness,  which! 
was  not  extreme,  could  detain  him  frjm  liis  class  room;  and  the 
first  day  of  his  last,  fatal  illness,  he  attempted  to  rise  and  at- 
tend to  his  classes,  and  only  desisted  from  his  purpose  when 
literally  overpowered  by  weakness. 

The  Christian  reader  will  hardly  need  to  be  told,  that  such 
a.  believer  as  is  above  portrayed,  abounded  in  active  exertions, 
and  the  labors  of  love  for  Christ  and  perishing  souls.  To  ap- 
preciate the  strength  of  this  active  principle  in  him,  we  must 
remember  the  modesty,  ihe  almost  shrinking  diffidence  of  his 
Christian  character.     A  few  instances  of  his  zeal  to  do  good 


404  MEMOIRS    OF   FRANCIS   S.    SAMPSON,   D.    D. 

have  already  been  mentioned.  When  he  went  to  the  University 
of  Virginia,  there  was  no  chaplain,  nor  religious  observance  of 
any  kind.  Occasional  public  worship  had  been  held  perhaps, 
by  transient  ministers  of  distinction;  and  the  sound  religious 
sentiment  which  distinguishes  the  bulk  of  our  people,  was  be- 
ginning to  make  itself  felt  among  the  governors  of  the  institu- 
tion; so  that  they  were  not  unwilling  to  pay  the  tribute  of  some 
outward  religious  observance  to  this  public  opinion.  Soon 
after  Dr.  Sampson  went  there,  the  Kev.  Mr.  Hamet,  a  Metho- 
dist minister  of  great  fluency,  and  popular  rhetorical  powers,, 
preached  in  Charlottesville;  and  the  most  thoughtless  students 
were  fascinated  with  his  abilities.  Advantage  was  taken  of 
this,  to  introduce  a  permanent  chaplain,  and  Mr.  Hamet  was  the 
flrst  who  filled  that  office.  The  chaplain  is  usually  selected  by 
the  facult}',  with  some  conference  with  influential  ministers  of 
his  own  denomination,  and  is  supported  wholly  by  a  voluntary 
subscription  among  the  professors,  students  and  other  residents. 
He  is  chosen  alternately  from  one  of  the  four  leading  denomina- 
tions, Methodist,  Baptist,  Episcopal  and  Presbyterian;  and 
served  at  first  one,  but  now  two  years.  Dr.  Sampson  was  very 
active  in  supporting  this  new  enterprise,  and  gave  valuable  aid 
to  Mr.  Hamet,  though  his  short  stay  in  that  office  ijromised  no 
very  valuable  religious  results.  He  was  succeeded  by  men  of 
a  more  evangelical  type;  and  to  them  all  Dr.  Sampson  was  a 
right  hand,  during  his  stay  at  the  University,  whatever  their 
denomination.  He  was  also  the  most  active  agent  in  originat- 
ing the  first  Sabbath  school  in  the  University,  and  was  its  su- 
perintendent. We  are  assured  by  an  eminent  citizen,  who  was 
then  a  child  in  one  of  the  families  connected  with  the  institu- 
tion, that  he  was  taught  in  this  Sabbath  school  by  Dr.  Sampson, 
and  there  received  his  first  saving  impressions.  The  first  pri- 
vate prayer  meeting  among  the  pious  students  of  the  Univer- 
sity was  equally  indebted  to  his  agency  for  its  maintenance. 
It  met  every  Sabbath  evening;  and  we  find  in  his  short  diary 
frequent  references  to  his  enjoyment  of  its  Christian  commun- 
ion, anid  to  his  having  addressed  a  word  of  exhortation  to  his 
brethren  there. 

The  following  sentences,  communicated  by  the  Eev.  Dr. 
White,  who  was  pastor  of  the  Cliarlottesville  church  from  the 


MEMOIRS    OF   FRANCIS    S.    SAMPSON,   D.    D.  405 

spring  of  188G  to  1848,  happily  express  the  position  which  Dr. 
Sampson  then  hekl  there: 

''My  aeqnaintance  with  Dr.  Sampson  commenced  in  the 
spring  of  183G.  He  was  then  jnst  closing  his  course  at  the 
University  of  Virginia;  and  on  the  4th  of  July  of  that  year,  lie 
took  the  degree  of  M.  A,  with  great  credit.  The  South  Plains 
church  then  embraced  the  Presbyterians  living  in  the  Univer- 
sity and  Charlottesville.  There  were  not  more  than  sixteen 
members  living  at  these  places.  On  my  arrival,  he  called  on  me, 
and  although  very  modest,  yet  convinced  me  in  one  short  in- 
terview, that  he  was  a  youth  of  no  ordinary  talents  and  piety. 
He  was  then,  I  should  suppose,  about  twenty  years  of  age — be- 
tween twenty-one  and  twenty-two.  He  entered  with  great  in- 
terest into  conversation  on  the  subject  of  religion;  and  had  evi- 
dently thought  and  prayed  much  for  the  prosperity  of  Z'ion. 
He  gave  me  more  information  respecting  the  condition  of  the 
church,  and  both  said  and  did  more  to  cheer  me  in  the  work 
I  was  about  to  undertake,  than  any  one  with  whom  I  met.  I 
well  remember  the  first  attempt  I  made  to  have  evening  service 
in  the  dirty  and  dilapidated  church.  When  I  reached  the  house, 
I  found  it  was  neither  lighted  nor  unlocked.  As  I  stood  in  front 
of  the  building  with  half  a  dozen  others,  none  of  whom  seemed 
to  know  what  to  do  in  this  great  emergency,  Sampson  came  up, 
accompanied  by  several  of  his  fellow  students  from  the  Uni- 
A'ersity.  I  was  on  the  point  of  abandoning  the  undertaking  in 
despair,  when  he,  with  his  accustomed  quickness  and  energy, 
said,  'Don't  go  yet — Fll  see  what  can  be  done.'  He  hurried 
away,  and  very  soon  returned  with  candles  in  one  hand,  and 
the  means  of  lighting  them  in  the  other — entered  the  house  by 
raising  one  of  the  windows,  and  soon  had  the  church  opened, 
lighted,  and  ready  for  service.  I  preached  to  Just  one  dozen 
hearers,  and  found  no  little  help  in  doing  so  from  the  part  he 
had  acted. 

"Through  his  whole  course  at  the  University,  he  was  as 
much  distinguished  for  his  firmness  as  for  his  modesty,  and  as 
eminent  for  his  piety  as  for  his  scholarship  and  talents.  My 
impression  is,  that  he  established  the  first  Sabbath  school  ever 
raught,  and  the  first  prayer  meeting  ever  held  in  the  Univer- 
sity. I  am  sure  he  took  a  very  active  jjart  in  both  these  depart- 
ments of  benevolent  and  Christian  effort. 


406  MEMOIRS   OF   FRANCIS   S     SAMPSON,   D.    D. 

"A  few  weeks  before  lie  graduated,  the  lamented  Professor 
Davis  said  to  me,  with  a  very  sad  expression  of  countenance, 
'We  are  about  to  lose  Sampson;  and  a  sad  loss  it  will  be  to  the 
I'uiversity.  With  a  modesty  and  reserve  seldom,  if  ever,  equal- 
ed, he  combines  a  firmness  of  purpose,  and  an  openness  and  en- 
ergy in  seeking  to  check  evil  and  do  good,  which  have  made 
him  a  great  blessing  to  the  whole  insriturion.  His  influence  over 
all  classes  of  persons  is  astonishing.  Has  your  church  no  more 
such  young  men  to  send  to  us?  The  University  might  well  af- 
ford to  furnish  any  number  of  such  with  their  board  and  tuition 
gratis.' 

'•I  have  always  believed  that  the  course  he  pursued  and 
rile  influence  he  exerted  contributed  immensely  to  the  great 
change  which,  from  that  time,  began  to  take  place  in  the  re- 
ligious character  of  that  institution.  My  connection  with  him 
there  ceased  after  some  two  or  three  months.  In  a  pleasant 
interview  with  him  just  before  he  left,  he  said  to  me,  'I  must 
preach  the  Grospel.  or  die  in  the  attempt.'  He  left  in  the  state 
of  mind  indicated  by  this  remark;  and  you  know  the  rest." 

We  cannot  refrain  from  adding  the  closing  paragraphs  of 
I>r.  White's  remarks  concerning  him.  though  more  confidential 
ill  their  tone,  and  not  relating  to  the  subject  immediately  before 
us.  His  words  give  a  touching  and  truthful  picture  of  the  im- 
pression made  by  the  lively  Christian  simplicity  and  modesty 
of  his  demeanor: 

''He  spent  two  ui-  iliree  days  with  me.  and  preached  twice 
for  me  during  the  summer  preceding  his  death.  The  impres- 
sion he  made  both  upon  my  congregation  and  family,  was  of  the 
most  sfiiutary  and  pleasing  kind.  His  meekness  and  gentleness, 
his  freedom  from  all  ostentation  and  reserve,  won  the  confi- 
dence of  the  youngest  member  of  my  household.  So  much  so, 
that  for  weeks  and  months  afterwards,  his  visit  was  frequently 
mentioned  at  my  fireside,  as  an  event  to  be  remembered  witii 
mingled  emotions  Df  pleasure  and  pain.  With  pleasure,  because 
we  enjoyed  the  privilege  of  entertaining  him:  and  with  pain, 
because  we  feared  we  should  never  enjoy  this  high  privilege 
again.  When  this  fear  was  realized  by  the  announcement  of 
his  death,  the  deepest  gloom  passed  over  my  family  circle,  and 
tears  were  shed  that  we  should  see  his  face  no  more." 

If  every  pious  student  and  other  young  Christian  were  thus 


MEMOIRS    OF   FRANCIS    S.    SAMPSON,   D.    D.  407 

(lilifieiit  in  di)iiig  good,  how  different  would  be  the  aspect  of 
our  churches  and  colleges.  What  a  new  impression  of  the  sol- 
euni  reality  and  urgency'  of  the  work  of  redemption  would  re- 
place in  the  minds  of  their  thoughtless  assiociates,  that  unreal 
and  dreamy  idea  which  they  now  entertain! 

At  the  Union  Seminary,  which  Dr.  Samps9n  joined  the  fall 
after  he  left  the  University,  his  Christian  activity  was  similar. 
Xo  man  was  farther  than  he  from  that  misplaced  zeal,  which 
aspires  to  do  the  work  of  an  evangelist,  while  still  a  student, 
at  the  expense  of  a  student's  proper  duties.  In  preparation  for 
the  class  room,  in  punctual  attention  to  the  routine  of  his  du- 
ties, in  accurate  scholarship,  he  was  among  the  foremost.  But 
to  do  good  was  one  of  the  recreations  of  his  leisure  hours.  Dur- 
ing a  season  of  religious  interest,  which  visited  the  College  in 
the  immediate  neighborhood  of  the  Seminary,  he,  with  others, 
labored  much  in  a  modest  way;  and  some  of  the  subjects  of  that 
work,  if  ever  they  attain  to  that  blessed  world  where  we  believe 
he  now  is,  will  have  occasion  to  acknowledge  their  debt  to  his 
wisdom  and  love,  to  all  eternity. 

As  soon  as  he  was  licensed  to  preach  the  Grospel,  by  the 
Presbytery  of  East  Hanover,  he  began  to  abound  in  evangelical 
labors,  which,  to  his  death,  were  increasingly  acceptable  to 
the  churches.  Besides  the  labors  of  his  vacations,  in  his  native 
county,  and  others  at  a  distance  from  the  Seminary,  he  preached 
statedly  at  different  times,  in  the  College  and  Farmville  church- 
es, at  Guinea  in  the  county  of  Cumberland,  Charlotte  court- 
house. Walker's.  Forest  and  Appomattox  churches  in  the  coun- 
ty of  Prince  Edward.  Some  of  these  labors  were  wholly  gratui- 
tous. For  a  considerable  period,  his  stated  labors  not  being 
more  urgently  needed  in  any  of  the  churches  of  convenient  ac- 
cess, he  preached  regularly  to  a  congregation  of  colored  people, 
for  no  other  reward  than  the  pleasure  of  doing  good. 

Another  marked  trait  of  his  Christian  character  was  the 
uniformity  and  healthfulness  of  his  devotional  spirit.  While 
Ids  private  habits  in  this  matter  were  covered  with  a  sacred 
veil,  which  none  dared  to  attempt  to  lift — drawn  alike  by  the 
reverence  and  the  modest^"  of  his  spirit — his  profiting  was  so 
outwardly  evident  to  all,  that  no  one  could  doubt  his  diligence 
in  the  closet.  While  his  brief  diary  laments  occasional  spiritual 
declensions,  there  is  reason  to  believe  that  he  never  knew  what 


408  MEMOIRS   OF   FRANCIS    S,   SAMPSON,   D.    D. 

it  was  to  lose  the  assurance  of  hope;  and  that  the  flame  of  devo- 
tion burned  in  him  with  a  glow  unusually  steady.  In  public, 
his  prayers  were  eminently  edifying  to  believers,  marked  by 
scriptural  tone,  humble  sincerity,  appropriateness  and  compre- 
hensiveness. But  to  know  the  sweetness  of  his  spirit  of  prayer 
fully,  one  must  have  enjoyed  the  privilege  of  being  an  inmate 
of  his  house  and  frequenting  his  domestic  altar.  Family  pray- 
ers were,  in  his  house,  no  hurried,  unmeaning  form.  The  whole 
air  and  tone  of  the  exercise  showed  deep  sincerity  and  earnest- 
ness. After  a  daily  catechising  of  children  and  servants,  the 
reading  of  the  Word  of  (iod,  and  a  hymn  of  praise,  he  bowed 
his  knees  with  a  composed  awe  and  seriousness,  which  seemed 
to  communicate  itself  to  all  the  circle.  What  deep  sincerity, 
what  discrimination  and  justice,  what  point,  wliat  fullness, 
what  grave  tenderness  characterized  those  prayers,  as  he 
brought  before  the  throne  of  grace  his  household — his  children, 
his  servants,  his  relatives,  his  brethren  in  Christ,  the  (Seminary, 
the  church,  and  the  whole  interests  of  a  perishing  world!  To 
those  who  were  so  happ3'  as  to  be  often  present,  it  was  not  diffi- 
cult to  believe  that  these  services  would  leave  their  calm  and 
holy  savor  upon  the  spirit,  throughout  all  the  toils  and  cares  of 
the  da3^,  like  ''the  dew  upon  Heron,  and  as  the  dews  that  de- 
scended upon  the  mountains  of  Zion." 

His  religious  principles  were  strikingly  illustrated  also,  by 
the  manner  in  which  he  felt  the  call  to  the  ministry. 

As  has  been  already  indicated,  his  definite  purpose  wa.s 
fixed,  in  this  matter,  during  liis  residence  at  the  University.  It 
was  formed  in  the  face  of  the  strongest  influences  and  the  most 
brilliant  allurements  to  more  worldly  and  ambitious  i)ursuits. 
H?.  lias  left  on  record  the  great  benefit  which  he  received  in  this 
respect,  as  well  as  in  others,  from  the  Biography  of  James 
Brainerd  Taylor,  edited  by  Dr.  John  H.  Rice.  The  principles 
illustrated  in  the  life  of  that  devoted  young  Christian  had  a 
powerful  influence  in  fixing  his  resolution  to  consecrate  him- 
self to  the  work  of  preaching  the  Gospel.  But  this  purpose  be- 
gan to  dawn  in  his  soul  from  the  very  beginning  of  his  Chris- 
tian life.  On  one  occasion  the  writer  asked  him,  what  were  the 
time  and  means  for  bringing  the  claims  of  the  ministry  home  to 
his  conscience.  He  answered,  "There  never  was  a  time,  in  my 
Christian  life,  when  I  did  not  feel  the  claims  of  the  ministry." 


MEMOIRS    OF   FRANCIS   S.    SAMPSON,    D.    D.  409 

In  reply  to  tlie  question,  how  this  was.  he  continued,  ''I  simply 
reasoned  thus:  I  had  given  myself  wholly  up  to  God,  to  be 
used  for  his  highest  glory,  and  if  he  needed  me  most  in  the  work 
of  the  ministry,  as  seemed  every  way  prjbable,  as  a  thing  of 
course  I  was  bound  to  be  a  minister." 

His  settled  purpose,  during  a  large  part  of  his  University 
and  Seminary  C3urse,  was,  to  prepare  himself  thoroughly  for 
the  work  of  a  translator  in  some  important  foreign  mission.  He 
was  led  to  this  purpose  by  his  success  and  accuracy  as  a  lin- 
guist, and  his  humble  estimate  of  his  own  talents,  and  his  ca- 
pacities for  public  speaking.  He  seems  to  have  thought  that 
he  was  deficient  in  all  those  more  brilliant  gifts,  which  secure 
success  in  the  pulpit;  that  his  only  talent  was  a  patience,  dili- 
gence and  accuracy,  which  wauld  make  him  a  correct  scholar, 
and  that  this  humble  talent  he  could  best  use  for  his  master's 
glory,  in  the  unobtrusive  drudgery  of  rendering  Grod's  Word 
into  the  tongue  of  some  I'agau  people.  With  this  object,  he 
devoted  himself  most  diligently  to  languages,  drilled  and  cul- 
tivated his  mind  as  thoroughly  as  possible  in  his  preparatory 
course,  and,  in  the  Seminary,  mastered  as  thoroughly  as  possi- 
ble the  languages  of  the  Scriptures.  But  his  master  thought 
not  S3.  When  his  Seminary  course  was  but  two-thirds  done, 
he  called  him.  by  his  Providence  and  the  voice  of  his  church, 
to  a  responsible  work  at  home;  and  speedily  rewarded  his  hum- 
ble fidelity,  by  giving  him  fame  and  influence  in  the  pulpit,  of 
which  he  had  judged  himself  unworthy. 

Now,  here  is  a  lesson  for  those  young  Chnstians,  who  malce 
a  lack  of  special  capacity  fjr  speaking  or  of  similar  qualifica- 
tions, their  pretext  for  declining  the  claims  of  the  ministry.  This 
servant  of  God  had  a  sincere  distrust  of  his  own  capacities;  but 
with  a  heart  consecrated  with  equal  sincerity  to  his  Saviour's 
service,  he  humbly  ottered  himself  to  the  work,  to  do  what  he 
could,  believing  that  God  would  accept  him  according  to  that 
which  he  had,  and  not  according  to  that  which  he  had  not.  Yea, 
and  he  was  accepted;  and  not  only  used  his  scholastic  accuracy 
fo;'  the  service  of  God  in  a  high  and  honorable  sphere,  but  be- 
came one  of  the  most  admired  and  impressive  preachers  of  the 
land. 

Young  Christian,  if  thy  self-distrust  is  genuine,  go  thou 
and  do  likewise.    But  if  it  is  feigned,  remember  that  ''all  things 


410  MEMOIRS    OF    FRAIMCIS    S.    SAMPSON,    D.    D 

are  naked  and  opened  unto  tlie  eves  of  him  with  whom  we 
have  to  do." 

Our  portraiture  wouhl  be  recognized  bv  all  the  friends  of 
Dr.  Sampson  as  incomplete,  if  we  omitted  those  which  were, 
to  all.  his  most  abvious  traits:  modesty  and  disinterestedness. 
One  of  his  most  faithful  friends  was  accustomed  to  say  of  him, 
''If  Brother  Sampson  has  a  fault,  it  is  that  he  is  too  modest." 
This  virtue  was  impressed  upon  his  social  demeanor,  upon  all 
his  acts  of  c  )nscientious  decision,  and  upon  his  deportment  in 
all  the  courts  of  the  church.  There,  he  was  usually  a  respectful 
listener,  and  a  rare  and  brief  speaker.  When  his  sense  of  the 
importance  of  a  measure  called  him  out,  his  remarks  were 
direct,  lucid  and  weighty,  and  offered  with  an  air  which  showed 
that  he  shrunk  from  occupying  the  time  and  attention  of  the 
body  longer  than  was  unavoidable.  Self-display  and  self-seek- 
ing were  ideas  which  none  that  knew"  him  associated  with  his 
name.  Always  estimating  his  own  talents  and  knowledge  be- 
low their  real  worth,  he  rather  shrank  from  promotion  than 
sought  it.  He  waited  for  the  call  of  his  brethren  and  Provi- 
dence;  and  it  is  believed  that  there  never  existed  a  case,  in 
which  he  consented  to  lift  a  finger,  directly  or  indirectly,  to. 
promote  his  own  advancement,  even  by  honorable  means.  Be- 
fore he  became  a  student  of  divinity,  he  refused  vei-y  tiattering 
offers  of  literary  employment,  not  inconsistent  with  clerical  du- 
ties. And  after  he  engaged  in  the  service  of  the  Seminary,  and 
received  the  assurances  of  his  brethren  that  they  judged  his 
labors  essential  to  the  cause  of  God  in  that  institution,  no  in- 
conveniences in  his  post,  and  no  advantages  oft'ered  from  with- 
out, weighed  a  feather  towards  leaving  it.  During  this  time, 
several  offers  of  employment,  such  as  professorships,  more  lu- 
crative, and  not  unworthy  of  a  Christian  minister,  were  made 
to  him.  His  answer  always  was,  that  God  seemed  to  have  work 
for  him  to  do  where  he  was;  and  as  long  as  this  wag  so,  he  had 
no  right  to  leave  it  for  any  increase  of  his  personal  comforts  or 
emoluments.  Meantime,  those  emoluments  were  so  stinted  for 
many  years,  in  consequence  of  the  financial  embarrassments  of 
rhe  Seminary,  as  scarcely  to  aiTord  the  means  of  comfortable 
subsistence.  Vp  to  his  formal  election  to  the  professorship  in 
which  he  died,  while  he  performed  the  full  duties  of  a  ])rofessor 
in  fact,  and  was  acknowledged  bv  all  to  be  second  to  no  one  in 


MEMOIRS    OF   FRANCIS   S.    SAMPSO^f,    D.    D.  411 

the  value  of  liis  labors,  he  received  less  tliau  two-tliii'ds  of  the 
eiiiolunu'iits  belongiug  to  the  office  of  a  professor  iu  this  insti- 
tmidii.  Thi.s  cantiiiued  for  ten  years — years  of  activity,  aud 
growing  reputation  and  usefulness — second  to  none  of  the  years 
of  his  life.  When  he  left  his  post  temporarily,  to  improve  his 
knowledge  and  health  in  Europe,  the  directors  of  the  Seminary 
continued  ta  him  this  inadequate  salarv  during  his  absence — 
feeling  that  his  tour  was,  in  fact,  in  the  service  of  the  Sem- 
inary, and  that  this  was  no  more  than  a  just  reparation  for  the 
unavoidable  scantiness  of  his  previous  compensation.  Bint 
even  this  he  declined  to  retain,  and  refunded  it  to  the  Seminary 
after  his  return,  in  annual  installments.  So  that  the  last  year 
of  his  life  may  be  said  to  be  the  anly  one  in  which  he  received 
the  full  salary  which  he  had  all  along  deserved.  Yet  in  re- 
funding this  sum,  he  considered  himself  as  repaying  a  debt,  and 
not  conferring  a  gift. 

.V  very  few  years  before  his  death  he  came  into  possession 
of  a  part  of  his  ample  patrimony,  and  then  his  benefactions  in- 
creased with  his  ability.  His  donations  to  the  Seminary  and  to 
other  institutions  of  public  interest,  were  bestowed  with  a 
generous  hand. 

His  conscientiousness  in  the  use  of  wealth,  might  well  be 
imitated  by  many  other  Christians.  Whether  his  circumstances 
were  scanty  or  affluent,  he  was  simple  in  his  tastes,  unostenta- 
tious in  his  person,  and  economical  from  principle.  In  accord- 
ance with  the  general  system  of  all  his  habits,  he  kept  an  exact 
account  of  all  expenditures — a  thing  which  is,  indeed,  a  neces- 
sary foundation  for  the  proper  practice  both  of  Christian  lib- 
erality and  Christian  economy.  He  was  economical  only  in  or- 
der to  have  the  means  to  be  liberal.  His  Christian  hospitality 
was  overflowing;  and  it  was  truly  the  hospitality  of  a  Chris- 
tian minister,  designed  not  for  its  own  display,  but  for  the  be- 
stowal of  comfort  on  others.  To  every  good  cause  he  gave,  al- 
ways with  the  heart,  and  when  his  means  became  ample,  with 
the  hand  of  a  prince.  It  was  one  of  the  secrets  which  his  Chris- 
tian modesty  never  revealed,  that  he  kept  a  strict  account  be- 
tween himself  and  God,  in  which  all  sources  of  income  were 
stated  with  scrupulous  exactness,  and  a  fixed  and  liberal  por- 
tion of  the  sum  was  set  apart  to  almsgiving;  and  this  account 
was  balanced  with  as  much  regularity  as  his  bank  book.    Mean- 


412  MEMOIRS   OF    FRANCIS   S.    SAMPSON,    D.    D 

time,  lie  was  not  .without  the  pretext,  which  many  professors  of 
religion  find  for  stinting  their  liberalii y,  in  the  chiims  of  a  grow- 
ing family. 


CHAPTER  III. 


Dr.  Sarupson  as   a   Student.     Wise   and   Resolute  Plan.     Thoroughness. 
Intense  Application.     His  Scholarship— Its  Range  and  Accuracj'. 

The  third  general  topir  i»roi)o.sed  to  the  reader,  will  be  the 
habits  of  .study  and  SL-holarship  of  Dr.  Sampson.  A  brief  state- 
ment of  his  methodical  and  thorough  system  of  study  has  al- 
ready been  made.  It  may  perhaps  be  said  with  truth,  that  the 
only  i>eculiar  indication  of  talent,  which  the  beginning  of  his 
scholastic  life  gave,  was  the  wise  and  resolute  i)lan  of  study 
which  he  set  before  himself,  and  pursued  from  the  first,  with 
all  the  determination  of  his  character.  For  surely,  such  wise 
determination  is  a  talent — it  is  a  trait  of  mental  and  moral 
greatness — and  one  rare  and  invaluable  in  a  stripling  of  six- 
teen. He  seems  to  have  begun  his  collegiate  course  with  a 
fixed  reference  to  the  greatest  ultimate  benefit.  While  he  was 
a  most  punctual  and  laborious  student,  exact  in  all  collegiate 
duties,  allowing  himself,  for  years,  ouIa^  six  hours  in  bed.  and 
but  a  scanty  season  for  recreation,  he  did  not  fall  into  the 
temptation  which  overthrows  so  many  at  the  University  of  Vir- 
ginia. This  is  the  ambition  to  run  rapidly  over  the  course,  by 
an  extraordinary  and  spasmodic  exertion,  and  thereby  to  excite 
admiration,  and  to  pass  speedily  into  the  duties  of  actiA'e  life. 
Dr.  Sampson's  course,  on  the  contrary,  was  long  and  deliberate, 
covering  five  years.  Many  distinguished  citizens,  who  were  his 
fellow  students,  state  that  he  was  at  first  only  known  as  "an 
excellent  student,"  of  good  sense  and  accurate  habits;  but  that 
with  every  session,  the  appreciation  of  his  abilities  and  learning 
increased.  He  seems  to  have  practiced,  from  the  first,  the  wis- 
dom so  rare  in  youth,  of  leaving  nothing  behind  unmastered,  of 
never  weakening  the  accuracy'  of  his  faculties  and  perceptions 
by  half  prepared  tasks,  and  half  understood  views.  His  schol- 
arship was  matured  and  digested,  as  he  progressed.  And  this 
character  was  found  eminently  in  all  his  subsequent  acquisi- 


MEMOIRS   OF   FRANCIS   S.    SAMPSON",   D.   t>.  413 

tions.  It  has  been  said  tliat,  as  a  Seminary  stndent,  lie  showed 
equal  diligence  and  method.  As  a  professor,  his  diligence  was 
great,  and  his  toil  in  study  excessive,  until  Increasing  infirmi- 
ties compelled  him  to  relax  his  labors.  It  is  well  remembered 
by  some  of  his  pupils,  that  once,  when  taking  a  class  over  the 
Epistle  to  the  Hebrews,  which  he  had  gone  over  more  than  once 
before,  he  spent,  on  an  average,  thirty  hours  of  active  study  on 
each  lesson,  in  additional  preparation.  But  alas!  here  the  in- 
tensity of  his  zeal  reached  its  crisis.  This  was  the  last  year  of 
his  firm,  unbroken  health;  and  henceforth,  "while  the  spirit  was 
willing,  the  flesh  was  weak." 

If  all  our  young  ministry  was  inspired  with  such  zeal,  how 
glorious  would  be  the  result?  Perhaps  the  number  might  be 
increased  by  those  who,  like  our  lamented  brother,  would  have 
to  say  of  themselves,  "The  zeal  of  thy  house  hath  consumed 
me,"  and  whose  premature  loss  the  church  would  bemoan  just 
as  their  harvest  of  usefulness  was  beginning.  But  would  not 
this  spirit  endue  the  ministry  of  reconciliation  with  an  influ- 
ence, a  w^eight,  a  might,  a  glory,  which  would  be  cheaply  pur- 
chased, even  at  so  precious  a  cost?  A  costly  price  hath  our 
Zion  paid  for  this  example,  which  she  now  otfers  to  her  young 
ministers,  to  teach  them  what  is  the  diligence  they  should  exer- 
cise! May  God  forbid  that  it  should  be  lost  on  them.  Happy  is 
that  man  who  falls  at  the  high  noon  of  his  career,  and  on  the 
spring  tide  of  his  success,  at  his  post  of  duty;  but  happier  is  he 
who  can  so  temper  a  burning  activity  with  a  holy  prudence,  and 
so  avoid  both  a  corroding  sluggishness  and  a  rash  over  exer- 
tion, as  to  rise  brightly  to  the  meridian  of  his  powers,  and  then 
decline  gently  towards  their  serene  evening,  and  thus  to  bless 
the  church  both  with  his  earlier  strength  and  his  riper  ex- 
perience. 

By  such  system  and  diligence.  Dr.  Sampson  became  one  of 
the  best  educated  men  of  our  country.  In  all  the  departments 
of  letters  he  was  able,  above  the  average.  His  knowledge  of 
systematic  theology  was  profound  and  extensive.  Of  church 
history  he  retained  a  knowledge  far  superior  to  that  which  most 
young  ministers  bring  to  their  ordination,  although  his  deparr- 
ment  called  him  away  from  these  studies;  and  he  was  accus- 
tomed to  complain  that  his  memory  was  treacherous  with  re- 
gard to  those  of  its  stores  which  he  had  no  opportunity  to  re- 


414  MEiNfoiRS  ol"  FkAKcis  s.  SAidPsoif,  0.  t>. 

view.  His  mastery  of  Latin  and  Greek,  and  of  most  of  the  po^ 
lite  languages  of  modern  Europe,  would  have  abundantly  quali- 
fied him  for  the  highest  posts  of  instruction  in  America.  T'o' 
say  that  it  was  such  as  becomes  a  well  educated  minister,  would 
be  utterly  inadequate  to  the  truth.  But  his  ripest  acquirements 
were  in  the  Hebrew  literature  and  the  exposition  of  the  Scrip- 
ture. Here,  as  is  well  known,  he  was  pre-eminent  for  tliDrough- 
ness,  accuracy  and  philosophical  arrangement.  While  there 
may  be  many  who  possess  an  equal  familiarity  with  these  de- 
partments of  learning,  it  may  be  safely  asserted  that,  as  a  Jeach- 
6r  of  Hebrew,  there  was  not  his  superior  on  our  continent. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

Characteristics  as  a  Teacher.  Tact.  Yivacitj-.  Earnestness.  Patience 
Intercourse  with  Pupils.  Hebrew  Prelections. 
This  naturally  suggests  another  subject  of  remark — his 
character  as  an  instructor.  In  his  practical  skill  as  a  teacher, 
was  his  peculiar  value  to  the  church  of  our  day;  for  as  a  mas- 
ter of  the  art  of  communicating  knowledge,  he  was,  in  our  view, 
unrivaled.  It  was  not  that  his  lectures  presented  those  grand 
sajings  which  electrify  for  the  moment,  nor  that  any  one  of 
his  efforts  produced  on  the  pupil  an  impress  of  pre-eminent  tal- 
ent— but  there  was  just  the  combination  of  that  justness  of 
mind,  steady  animation,  thorough  knowledge,  patience  and 
tact,  which  gave  the  highest  skill  in  teaching,  both  as  it  is  a 
trade  and  as  it  is  a  science.  He  was  equal  to  its  profoundest 
researches.  He  shunned  none  of  its  most  irksome  drudgeries. 
One  of  the  foundation  stones  of  his  success  was  his  owti  indis- 
putable scholarship.  No  man  ever  passed  through  one  of  his 
classes  without  a  profound  and  admiring  conviction  of  this. 
Another  was  in  his  unfailing  animation  and  vivacity  of  mind, 
which  was  so  keen,  even  on  subjects  usually  esteemed  dry,  as 
to  seem  unaccountable  to  many.  The  exertion  of  voice  and 
body  which  he  unconsciously  employed,  when  thoroughly 
warmed  to  his  work,  was  often  the  subject  of  playful  remark 
between  him  and  his  colleagues.  This  animation  communicat- 
ed itself  to  his  pupils — sa  that  usually  their  highest  diligence 
w-as  exerted  in  his  department,  though  it  was  one  not  most  at- 


MEMotRS   Oi"  FRANCiS   S.    SAMPSON,   D.   t.  415 

tractive  to  all  miuds.  But  to  this  result  another  quality,  which 
is  invaluable  to  the  teacher,  also  contributed.  This  was  the 
energy  of  his  own  will,  which  pressed  on  towards  the  objects 
of  his  exertion  with  an  impetus  which  swept  all  along  with  it, 
and  communicated  its  own  life  to  the  most  sluggish.  In  every 
act  of  his  in  the  class  room,  there  was  expressed  the  idea  of 
work;  and  all  who  frequented  it  soon  felt  instinctively  that  it 
was  not  the  place  for  loitering.  It  might  be  said  that  his 
watchword  was  thoroughness.  With  an  admirable  patience,  he 
expounded  his  subject  so  as  to  make  it  luminous  to  the  weak- 
est eye;  and  if  his  questions  revealed  the  fact  that  there  was 
still  some  one  who  did  not  fully  comprehend,  he  would  resume 
his  explanation,  and  repeat  in  varied  forms,  till  his  ideas  were 
thoroughly  mastered.  Out  of  this  habit,  and  the  propensity  of 
his  mind  to  thorough  work,  probably  grew  that  which  might 
have  been  considered  his  prominent  fault  as  an  instructor.  His 
explanations  sometimes  degenerated  into  excessive  amplifica- 
tion, which  became  wearisome  to  those  who  had  given  him  a 
moderate  degree  of  attention  from  the  beginning;  and  he  thus 
unduly  protracted  his  prelections. 

His  intercourse  with  his  pupils  was  marked  by  a  happy 
union  of  modest  dignit}^,  which  repelled  improper  encroach- 
ments, and  cordial,  ingenuous  kindness,  which  conciliated  con- 
fidence. In  his  presence,  each  one  felt  that  there  was  a  sim- 
plicity and  candor  which  set  the  stamp  of  reality  on  every  kind 
attention.  It  is  believed  that  there  is  not  one  of  his  pupils  who 
did  not  feel  for  him  not  only  respect,  but  warm  affection;  and 
many  can  join  in  the  sad  words  of  one  who  remarked,  when 
speaking  of  his  death,  "Well,  I  never  expect  to  meet  with  an- 
other minister  of  the  Gospel,  whom  I  shall  love  and  revere  as 
I  did  that  man."  Often  it  was  a  subject  of  wonder  to  his  col- 
leagues, how  so  much  affection  could  be  retained  fram  those 
towards  whom  he  exercised  so  much  fidelity  in  admonishing. 

The  distinctive  traits  of  his  expository  instructions  may 
perhaps  be  described  as  justice  of  thought,  neatness,  and  im- 
partiality of  mind.  He  believed  the  plenary  inspiration  of  the 
Scriptures.  His  soul  loved  their  spiritual  truths;  and  often 
in  the  lecture  room  he  soared  away  from  the  dry  dissection  ot 
words  and  propositions,  into  regions  of  devout  meditation,  and 
made  his  class  forget  for  the  time  the  exercises  of  the  head,  in 
tlie  nobler  exercises  of  the  heart. 


416  MEMOIRS    OF  FRANCIS   S.    SAMPSON',   D.    D. 

It  was  in  his  Hebrew  prelections  tiiat  his  mental  excel 
lence  shone  most  distinctly.  He  had  applied  the  broadest  prin- 
ciples of  etymology  to  the  elements  of  this  language,  in  a  man- 
ner original  and  philosophical;  and  had  thus  reduced  them  to 
an  3rder  which,  so  far  as  we  know,  is  not  equaled  by  any  pub- 
lished grammar.  His  lectures  unfolded  the  Hebrew  etymology 
with  a  lucid  order,  beauty  and  simplicity,  which  could  not  fail 
to  delight  every  intelligent  learner.  Indeed,  if  we  may  be  per- 
mitted to  introduce  our  own  judgment,  after  frequenting  the 
halls  of  three  separate  institutions  of  learning,  and  sitting  under 
some  of  the  most  gifted  and  learned  men  wh  >  have  appeared  on 
this  side  of  the  Atlantic,  Dr.  Sampson's  lectures  on  the  Hebrew 
language,  and  some  other  departments,  seem  to  us  the  most 
philosophical,  the  most  complete,  ihe  best  teaching  ro  which  we 
ever  listened.  None  who  attended  his  prelections  on  the  canon 
of  Scripture  (of  which  there  remains  a  brief  specimen  in  his 
"University  Lecture")  will  forget  the  masterly  nature  of  the  ar- 
gument there  constructed.  It  is  one  not  servilely  copied  or  com- 
piled from  previous  writers,  but  constructed  on  his  own  plan. 
He  has  there  built,  upon  a  foundation  of  adamant,  a  structure 
whose  ribs  of  steel  are  knit  together  with  the  strength  of  mathe- 
matical demonstration.  Xo  part  is  wanting,  and  every  part  is 
in  its  exact  i)hue.  It  stands  totve  teres  et  rotundus,  impen- 
etrable everywhere  to  refutation. 

Alas  I  that  there  remain  no  permanent  records  of  most  of 
these  invaluable  instructions,  except  in  the  scanty  and  scat- 
tered notes  of  his  p.ipils.  In  his  later  years.  Dr.  Sampson  re- 
gretted often  that  he  had  not  found  time  to  fix  upon  paper  more 
of  his  course  of  instruction.  But  such  was  his  unambitious  and 
self-sacrificing  spirit,  that  he  always  yielded  to  the  urgent  de- 
mands of  the  present,  and  preferred  the  thorough  performance 
of  his  duties  to  his  classes,  to  the  gathering  of  those  fruits  of 
his  researches,  which  would  have  promoted  the  fame  of  his  au- 
thorship. He  said,  that  if  he  became  an  author,  he  must  be  a 
less  diligent  teacher.  There  was  not  time  to  be,  thoroughly, 
both  at  once.  And  he  preferred  rather  to  leave  his  record  writ- 
ten on  the  minds  and  hearts  of  the  rising  ministry  of  our  Syn- 
ods, where  it  might  be  fruitful  in  the  enlightening  of  souls,  than 
in  volumes  which  would  hand  down  his  name  to  future  ages. 
But  besides  this,  he  was  cut  down  just  when  the  fruits  of  his 


MEMOIRS   OF  FRANCIS   S.    SAMPSON,   D.    D.  41^ 

arduous  studies  were  coming  to  their  rich  maturity.  Had  he 
lived  to  old  age,  he  might  have  gathered  some  of  them  into 
books,  for  the  benefit  of  a  wider  and  more  remote  circle. 


CHAPTER  V. 


Dr.  Sampson  as  a  Preacher.  Simplicity  of  Style.  Logical  Arrange- 
ment. Elevation  of  Thouglit.  Steadily  advancing  Reputation.  Les- 
son of  Encouragement  to  young  Pivines. 

The  reader  will  almost  be  able  to  surmise,  from  what  has 
now  been  said,  the  character  of  his  preaching.  It  exhibited  al- 
ways the  lucid  order,  and  the  animation  of  mind  which  marked 
everything  w'hich  he  produced.  His  best  sermons  rose  to  a 
grade  of  excellence  which  is  seldom  displayed  in  any  part  of 
the  church.  And  it  was  an  excellence  which  was  most  appre- 
ciated by  the  most  Cultivated  and  mature  minds.  Whilst  there 
were  other  preachers,  who  would  be  more  sought  after  by  the 
masses,  he  was  preferred  by  the  men  of  thought  and  acquire- 
ment. His  plans  of  discussion  were  marked  by  a  just  and  com- 
prehensive view,  which  showed  both  the  profound  theologian, 
and  the  ripe  biblical  scholar,  who  had  drunk  deep  into  the  spirit 
of  the  Word  of.  God.  His  propositions  were  usually  stated  with 
singular  accuracy  and  beauty  of  language;  but  it  was  a  beauty 
rather  logical  than  theoretical,  rather  chaste  than  florid.  In 
deed,  his  whole  method  of  discussion  wore  an  appearance  of 
directness,  too  severe  to  admit  of  any  license  of  ornament.  Yet, 
in  the  judgment  of  all  those  who  are  capable  of  appreciating  a 
felicitous  purity  and  aptness  of  language,  and  thoughts  of  vig- 
orous symmetry,  many  passages  in  his  sermons  rose  to  the  high- 
est grade  of  eloquence,  coupled  as  they  were  with  his  genuine 
fervor  and  fire.  His  preaching  was  rich  in  matter,  and  emin- 
ently scriptural,  such  as  is  best  fitted  to  feed  the  spiritual  mind. 
It  was  alwaj's  remarkable  for  its  elegance  and  elevation,  which 
were  never  tarnished  by  anything  coarse  in  allusion,  ludicrous 
in  association,  or  bungling  in  structure.  But  it  was,  the  least 
of  all  men's,  a  finical  elegance.  It  was  rather  that  of  an  ener- 
getic and  lofty  simplicity.  That  men  of  strictly  scholastic 
training  and  pursuits  should  excel  in  the  particular  work  of 


418  MEM0IE8    OF   FRANCIS    S.    SAMPSON,   D,    B. 

ii.e  pulpit,  is  rather  the  exception;  but  he  was  certainly  one  of 
the  most  brilliant  of  these  exceptions.  Hy  the  intelligent  public 
his  preaching  was  even  as  highly  esteemed  as  his  professional 
labors  were  by  intelligent  students. 

This  fact  is  dwelt  on.  because  it  contains  most  instructive 
encouragement  to  all  beginners  in  the  pulpit  work.  When  Dr. 
Sampson  first  began  to  preach,  he  was  far  from  being  an  easy 
or  impressive  speaker.  His  first  attempts  had  little  to  eouir 
mend  them,  except  that  excellence  of  composition  which  was 
the  unavoidable  result  of  his  thorough  training  and  good  mind. 
He  labored  under  a  constraint  and  embarrassment,  painful  to 
himself  and  his  hearers.  His  voice  was  not  modulated,  and  his 
gesture  was  scant  and  unformed.  But  every  effort  showed  im- 
provement; and  a  few  years  of  diligent  exertion  placed  him  in 
the  front  rank  of  impressive,  pungent  and  fervent  pulpit  ora- 
tors. His  voice  became  resonant  and  musical;  his  action  digni- 
fied and  energetic. 

Such  an  example  should  effectually  remove  the  discourage- 
ments of  those  who  suppose  they  are  deficient  in  pulpit  gifts; 
and  it  should  teach  all  to  feel  their  responsibility  to  set  up  for 
themselves  a  high  standard  of  excellence,  and  to  be  satist-^n] 
with  no  dull  mediocrity  in  sacred  oratory.  Provided  they  have 
good  sense  and  diligence,  let  them  not  persuade  themselves 
that  the  road  is  closed  up  to  them,  which  leads  to  the  higher 
grades  of  excellence  in  this  art.  The  things  by  w^hich  Dr.  Samp- 
son was  enabled  so  thoroughly  to  overcome  his  original  de- 
fects, were  undoubtedly  these:  First,  there  was  his  superior 
scholarship,  which  gave  him  mental  furniture,  and  supplied 
the  best  material  ujj'on  which  to  build  a  style.  Had  he  not 
been  a  superior  scholar,  had  his  mind  not  been  thoroughly 
drilled  and  invigorated  by  its  inner  training,  his  early  manner 
would  never  have  been  improved  into  one  so  eminently  good. 
Next,  should  be  mentioned  the  modesty,  humility  and  ingen- 
uousness of  his  Christian  character.  He  learned  to  preach 
well,  because  he  aimed  to  preach  not  himself,  but  Jesus  Christ. 
Those  words  of  our  Saviour  proved  strictly  true,  in  their  ap- 
plication to  his  understanding  of  the  art  of  expressing  reli- 
gious truth:  ''If  thine  eye  be  single,  thy  whole  body  shall  be 
full  of  light."  His  eye  was  single.  His  prevailing  purpose  was 
to  show  forth  the  way  of  life:  and  his  triste  was  not  perverted. 


MEMOIRS   OF   FRANCIS   S.    SAMPSON,    D.    D.  4lj) 

nor  his  manner  poisoned,  by  the  itchings  of  conceit,  or  the  am- 
bition for  display.  And,  in  the  tliird  place,  he  was  diligent. 
Not  only  did  he  preach  much,  "in  season  and  out  of  season," 
but  he  preached  with  careful  and  laborious  preparation.  And 
where  there  is  a  natural  substratum  of  good  sense,  unfettered 
by  any  physical  defect,  these  means  will  usually  be  sufficient 
to  overcome  an}'  amount  of  incipient  difficulties  or  failures,  and 
to  make  an}-  man,  if  not  an  orator  of  the  first  rank,  an  impres- 
sive and  pleasing  speaker. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

Intellectual  Traits.     Grcnius  and  Talent.     Symmetry.     Analytic  Faculty. 
Imagiuatiou.     Memory.     Candid  Estimate  of  his  Powors. 

It  is  in  the  life  and  acts  of  a  man  that  the  faculties  and 
traits  of  his  mind  make  themselves  known  to  others.  Conse- 
quently, the  preceding  exhibition  of  Dr.  Sampson's  character 
as  a  scholar,  teacher  and  preacher,  is  also  a  portraiture,  in  some 
sense,  of  his  intellect.  No  more  is  necess'ary,  therefore,  than 
to  sum  up  the  whole  with  a  few  general  remarks.  Dr.  Sampson 
could  not  be  called  a  genius.  He  was  what  is  far  better — a 
man  of  high  talent.  His  mind  presented  nothing  that  was  sa- 
lient or  astonishing.  But  this  was  not  so  much  because  there 
was  not  power,  as  because  it  was  power  S3'mmetrically  develop- 
ed. His  was  just  one  of  those  excellent  minds,  which  grow 
most,  and  longest,  by  good  cultivation.  In  wide  and  adven- 
turous range,  his  speculative  powers  were  not  equal  to  those 
of  some  other  men;  but  in  power  of  correct  analysis,  in  sound- 
ness of  judgment  and  logical  perspicacity,  he  was  superior  to 
all  we  have  ever  known,  except  a  very  few.  Indeed,  when  a 
■speculative  subject  was  fully  spread  out  before  his  mind  for 
consideration,  his  conclusions  seemed  to  be  guided  by  a  pene- 
tration and  justness  of  thought  almost  infallible.  This  con- 
sideration was  deliberate;  and  his  decision  was  very  rarely  ex- 
pressed with  haste,  or  even  with  promptitude.  Hence  his  writ- 
ings and  conversation  never  exhibited  an}-  of  that  paradox,  or 
that  bold  novelty  and  dangerous  originality,  which  are  too  of- 
ten mistaken  for  greatness.     His  talents,  if  they  had  less  to 


420  MEMOIRS    OF   FRANCIS   S      SAMPSON,    t).    t>. 

awaken  an  empty  ai^touishment  and  admiration,  were  far  safer, 
more  reliable  and  more  useful.  It  was  bard  for  anytbing  so- 
phistical or  unsatisfactory  to  escape  detection  undei'  bis  steady 
gaze.  He  was  particularly  free  from  tbat  common  fault  of 
many  minds  of  large  grasp:  tbe  adopting  of  major  propositions 
so  large  tbat  tbey  will  contain  tbe  conclusion  wliicb  tbe  reasou- 
er  desires  to  derive  from  tbem;  but  at  tbe  same  time  so  sbadowy 
that  they  contain  be  knows  not  bow  much  more. 

In  bis  powers  of  arrangement,  he  was  undoubtedly  super- 
ior to  any  man  we  have  ever  known.  In  bis  mind,  tbe  elements 
of  thought  seemed  to  group  themselves  always,  and  spontan- 
eously, into  tbe  most  philosophical  order  possible,  with  a  regu- 
larity like  tbat  of  tbe  atoms  of  limpid  water,  when  tbey  crystal- 
lize into  transparent  ice. 

The  efforts  of  Dr.  Sampson's  imagination  were  rather  of 
tbat  kind  which  Mr.  Macaulay  describes  in  Sir  James  Macin- 
tosh. Tbey  consisted  not  so  much  in  the  original  grouping  of 
elements  into  new,  but  lifelike  forms,  as  in  selecting  appro- 
priate forms  already  shaped  out,  from  the  stores  of  a  well  fur- 
nished memory.  In  those  severer  exercises  of  tbe  imagina- 
tion, which  are  required  in  mathematical  thought  and  in  the 
bodying  forth  of  scientific  conceptions,  this  faculty  was  em^- 
inently  distinct  and  vigorous.  But  in  its  more  poetic  exercises 
it  was  limited.  His  power  of  calling  up  tbat  species  of  illus- 
tration which  is  flowing  and  graceful,  was  scanty;  and  while 
the  operations  of  bis  faculties,  especially  in  lecturing  and 
preacJing,  were  unusually  fervent,  it  was  rather,  so  far  as  it 
was  not  spiritual,  tbe  dry  beat,  if  we  may  so  term  it,  of  intel- 
lectual animation,  than  tbe  glow  of  genial  fancies.  And  yet, 
there  were  a  few  occasions  on  which  he  showed  a  high  measure 
of  tbe  graphic  or  pictorial  power;  which  might  indicate  tbat 
this  faculty  was  rather  disused  by  him  than  lacking  in  him. 
Another  of  bis  mental  peculiarities  has  been  already  hinted:  bis 
almost  impracticable  honesty.  He  could  never  be  induced  to 
accept  a  proposition  unless  it  wholly  commended  itself  to  his 
mind  as  true.  His  memory  was  most  retentive,  for  all  thingis 
which  were  arranged  in  it  by  any  logical  association;  but  for 
things  sole,  or  merely  verbal,  it  was  sometimes  treacherous. 

Upon  tbe  whole,  considering  tbe  admirable  justness  and 
perspicacity  of  bis  mind,  its  vigor  and  accuracy  in  analysis,  its 


MEMOIRS   OF   FRANCIS   S.    SAMPSON,   D.    D.  421 

wonderful  capacity  for  pMIosophieal  arrangement,  and  the  eu- 
ei-ftv  of  its  purposes,  he  might  have  been  truthfully  called  a 
man  of  great  powers.  The  symmetry  of  those  powers,  his  mod- 
esty in  their  display,  the  very  accuracy  of  thought  which  re- 
pressed all  those  paradoxical  brilliancies  that  catch  the  ad- 
miration of  the  crowd,  forbid  that  he  should  be  promptly  ap- 
preciated. Hence  his  proper  grade  will  probably  only  be  as- 
s>igned  him  by  those  who,  like  the  writer,  had  opportunities  to 
contemplate  his  mental  powers  deliberately.  But  it  is  his  de- 
liberate judgment — a  judgment  formed  maturely,  in  advance 
o'l  that  warm  personal  attachment  which  he  will  ever  esteem 
(Hie  of  the  chief  blessings  and  honors  of  his  life,  that  Dr.  Samp- 
son, for  his  particular  work,  possessed  capacities  unsurpassed 
b\  an}^  man  which  our  countr^^  has  produced,  and  equaled  b^^ 
very  few.  Happy  would  it  have  been  for  our  churches  if  they 
had  fully  known  his  worth. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

Failure  of  Health.  Fluctuations  of  Disease.  Flattering  Hopes.  In- 
creased Piligence.  Dr.  Sampson's  last  Sermon.  Final  Attack.  Con- 
cern of  the  whole  Community.  Prayer  in  Presbytery.  Dying  Exer- 
cises. 

In  the  early  spring  of  1840,  Dr.  Sampson's  ill  health  began 
with  a  terrible  pleurisy;  which  was  immediately  provoked  by 
fatigue  and  exposure  in  preaching  the  Grospel,  but  doubtless 
owed  its  more  remote  origin  to  the  prostration  of  vital  energy, 
produced  by  the  intense  appMcation  we  have  described  above. 
After  imminently  threatening  his  life,  this  disease  was  sub- 
dued, but  it  did  not  leave  him  with  a  sound  constitution.  He 
seemed  to  be  nearly  re-established:  and  especially,  on  his  re- 
turn from  Europe,  his  appearance  of  health  and  vivacity  al- 
layed all  the  fears  of  his  friends.  P>ut  not  long  after,  he  ex 
perienced  another  irreparable  shock,  in  a  severe  nervous  fever 
which  overtook  him  on  a  journey.  This  loft  liim  with  a  nervous 
system  and  liver  painfully  deranged,  and  some  threatening  in- 
dications of  pulmonary  disease.  Fro'm  this  time  forth,  he  sel- 
dom knew  what  it  was  to  enjoy  comfortable  strength.  His  most 


422  MEMOIRS    OF   FRANCIS   S.   SAMPSON,   D.    D. 

distressing  symptoms  were  a  feverish  excitability  of  pulse, 
sleeplessness,  and  occasional  attacks  of  biliary  derangement, 
which  prostrated  his  muscular  system  for  the  time.  But  dur- 
ing his  last  session,  his  health,  cheerfulness  and  hopefulness 
seemed  to  revive;  and  there  was  again  a  flattering  promise  of 
re  established  strength  and  a  long  life.  The  returning  prosper- 
ity of  the  beloved  Seminary,  the  renewed  and  substantial  as- 
surances of  interest  and  affection  on  the  part  of  the  churches 
and  ministry,  and  the  steps  taken  towards  filling  the  vacancies 
in  its  faculty  and  dividing. his  responsibilities,  seemed  to  be 
cordials  to  his  mind  and  body.  His  enjoyment  of  the  innoceul 
blessings  of  life  and  its  domestic  affections,  was  intense,  and 
liis  hold  upon  it  was  strong. 

During  this  flattering  season,  he  seemed  to  be  conscien- 
liously  husbanding  his  strength,  and  employing  all  the  means 
for  preserving  health.  Once  or  twice  he  referred  to  the  repeat- 
ed and  grievous  blows,  which  a  mysterious  Providence  had  in- 
flicted on  the  Seminary  in  the  death  of  its  most  useful  ser- 
vants, and  pleasantly  said  to  his  colleagues,  ''It  is  our  duty  to 
live  just  as  long  as  we  can,  in  order  that  the  institution  may 
have  time  to  root  itself."  But  alas!  another  blast  was  nearer 
than  any  of  us  feared,  which  shook  its  still  unsettled  strength, 
nor  less  grievously  than  any  which  has  burst  upon  it,  since  that 
which  smote  down  its  great  founder  in  the  flower  of  his  strength 
and  success.  Xor  did  Dr.  Sampson  seem  to  be  without  antici- 
pations of  its  ai)proach.  While  he  said  nothing  directly,  and 
seemed  rather  ta  avoid  any  allusions  to  the  previous  symptoms, 
threatening  his  health,  as  a  painful  subject,  yet  the  thoughf 
seemed  to  be  ever  treading  close  after  his  eager  footsteps,  and 
spurring  him  to  greater  diligence,  "The  night  cometh,  when  no 
man  can  work."  Mpre  than  once,  when  others  expostulated 
with  him  for  taxing  himself  be^'ond  his  strength,  either  by  the 
fervency  of  his  preaching,  or  the  vigor  with  which  he  pushed 
thrDugh  his  Seminary  duties,  he  answered,  "Perhaps  I  have 
but  a  few  days  or  weeks  more  in  which  to  do  my  task.  I  must 
work  the  works  of  him  that  sent  me,  while  it  is  day." 

And  even  so,  the  summons  came,  to  him  not  unawares, 
but  to  us  "like  a  thunderbolt  from  a  cloudless  sky."  Sunday, 
the  second  of  April,  the  venerable  pastor  being  absent,  he 
preached  in  the  college  church,  from  Prov.  xi,  18.    "The  wicked 


MEMOIRS   OF  FRANCIS    S.    SAMPSON,   D.    D.  423 

worketh  a  deieitful  work;  but  to  him  that  soweth  i'i<jhteous- 
uess,  shall  be  a  sure  reward.*"  lu  this  sermon  he  urjjed  the  con- 
trast between  the  delusiveness  of  the  objects  pursued  by  the 
unbeliever,  and  the  glopious  sufficiency  and  certainty  of  the  be- 
liever's reward,  with  a  power  of  thought,  an  energy  of  man- 
ner, and  a  fervor  o^  atfectian,  which  could  not  have  been  sur- 
passed, if  he  had  foreseen  that  this  was  his  last  message  to  his 
fellow  men,  and  had  poured  the  whole  soul  of  a  dying  man  into 
this  final  appeal.  As  we  left  the  church  that  day.  we  felt  that 
in  this  discourse  his  powers  as  a  preacher  of  the  gospel  cul- 
minated. From  that  meridian  height  and  splendor  he  fell — 
nay,  rather,  he  rose;  for  the  next  Lord's  day  his  soul  (doubtless) 
ascended  to  those  heavenly  courts, 

"Where  congregations  ne'er  break  up. 
And  Sabbaths  have  no  end." 

After  attending  with  zest  upon  all  the  religious  services  of 
the  day,  he  retired  to  rest,  apparently  in  his  usual  health — 
his  last  act  having  been  to  minister  to  the  comfort  of  a  sick" 
servant.  Before  the  next  mDrning  he  was  violently  seized  with 
what  seemed  at  first  to  be  one  of  the  customary  bilious  at- 
tacks; but  it  proved  a  fatal  and  insidious  pneumonia.  Per- 
haps it  was  the  more  fatal,  because  he  was  providentially  de- 
prived of  the  assistance  of  his  faitliful  family  physidan  for 
nearly  twenty-four  hours  after  his  first  attack.  When  he  first 
secured  medical  aid,  his  symptoms  were  most  ominous;  and 
after  one  or  two  delusive  promises  of  relaxation,  the  disease 
finished  its  deadly  work  on  Sabbath.  April  the  9th.  His  shat- 
tered frame  had  not  the  springs  of  an  effectual  resistance,  and 
succumbed  soon  before  a  malady  wliich  is  terrible  even  to  the 
strongest. 

Tlie  Wednesday  after  he  was  seized.  West  Hanover  i'res- 
bytery  eanveued  at  Brown's  church,  Cumberland,  about  fifteen 
miles  from  the  Seminary.  I'erhaps  the  last  business  act  which 
Dr.  Sampson  performed  was  one  eminently  eliaracteristic  of 
his  punctuality.  It  was  to  send,  by  one  of  his  colleagues,  his 
excuse  for  absence  from  Presbytery,  and  a  business  paper  of 
some  importance  to  a  third  person,  which  he  directed,  with  a 
special  charge,  to  be  placed  without  fail  in  the  hands  '3f  the 
moderator.  When  the  Presbytery  learned  his  threatening  con- 
dition, it  proceeded  at  once  to  set  apart  a  season  of  special  ia- 


424  WF.MOIRS   OF   FRANCIS   S     SAMPSON,   D     D 

tercession  on  his  behalf.  Highly  as  he  had  beeu  appreciated  bj- 
hih-  brethren  before,  when  thej  began  to  look  in  the  face  the 
consequences  'Df  his  loss,  thev  seemed  to  awaken  to  a  new  sense 
of  his  value  to  the  Seminary  and  the  church.  On  Fridaj-,  and 
again  on  Saturday,  when  persons  were  recognized  approach- 
ing the  church,  who  were  known  to  come  direct  from  him,  the 
huuse  was  almost  deserted  by  the  members,  who  came  out,  by 
;in  irrepressible  imi)ulse.  to  learn  his  state.  Friday,  when  it 
was  reported  that  there  was  a  faint  premise  of  amendment,  it 
was  agreed  that  the  Presbytery  should  again  unite  in  a  season 
of  intercession  on  his  behalf;  and  prayer  was  offered,  by  the 
re\ered  pastor  of  the  College  church,  with  a  faith,  tenderness, 
fervency  and  devout  submission,  which  will  never  be  forgotten 
to  the  dying  day  of  those  who  heard  it.  Cbuld  such  a  prayer 
fail  to  enter  into  the  ears  of  the  Lord  of  Sabaoih?  Doubtless 
it  tvas  heard  and  accepted;  accepted  even  as  that  more  bitter 
L-ry  of  our  divine  Exemplar  was  accepted:  '"Father,  if  it  be 
possible,  let  this  cup  pass  from  me;  nevertheless,  not  my  will, 
but  thine,  be  done."  ''It  is  enough  for  the  disciple  to  be  as  his 
Master."'  In  all  the  congregations  which  received  the  newts 
of  our  brother's  danger,  prayer  was  also  made  of  the  church 
unto  God  for  him.  The  anxiety  of  the  whole  community  con- 
cerning him  revealed  that  he  had  a  hold  upon  their  respect 
and  affections,  which  WDuld  not  have  been  expected,  if  we  re- 
membered that  his  pursuits  had  beeu  chiefly  those  of  the. study, 
and  that  he  was  rather  among  the  people  than  of  them.  Per- 
sons going  from  the  Seminar}-  were  everywhere  stopped  in  the 
road  by  enquirers  after  his  condition,  in  which  there  was  a 
deep  concern  and  tenderness,  which  came  froan  the  heart. 

His  religious  exercises  were  just  those  of  which  his  Chris- 
tian life  gave  pfDraise — without  fear,  for  he  had  long  lived  in 
the  assurance  of  hope;  and  without  transport,  for  a  disease  so 
violent  and  prostrating  left  no  animal  spirits  for  such  feel- 
ings, foreign  as  they  were  at  all  times,  to  his  religious  habits. 
Early  in  his  sickness,  but  after  his  disease  had  manifested  it- 
self as  a  dangerous  one,  he  remarked  to  one  of  his  nurses.  "I 
find  now,  what  I  have  always  felt,  that  a  sick  bed  is  no  place 
to  prepare  for  eternity.  But  I  have  not  that  to  do.  I  long  ago 
made  my  peace  with  Crod.  The  God  I  have  feebly  preached 
to  others  is  my  support." 


ME^roiRS    OF   FR\I^CI3    S.    SAMPSON,    D.    D.  425 

His  disease,  attacking  as  it  did  the  limgs.  made  talking 
both  painful  and  injurious;  and  be  and  all  about  him  were 
strongly  inhibited  by  the  physicians  to  converse  much.  He 
yielded  an  implicit  'Dbedience.  remarking  several  times,  "My 
life  belongs  not  to  myself,  but  to  the  church,  the  Seminary,  my 
family,  and  to  society;  and  it  is  any  duty  now  not  to  consult' 
my  own  inclinations,  but  conscientiously  to  observe  the  means 
of  preserving  life,  as  long  as  there  is  any  hope."  Indeed,  he 
seemed  to  study  calmness  of  emotions,  and  even  to  avert  his 
iniud  from  those  objects  which  would  excite  the  mt)re  near 
domestic  affections,  which  were,  to  one  blessed  as  he  was,  so 
tendei".  and  in  the  prospect  'Df  their  interruption,  so  harrow- 
ing. Thus  he  observed  the  means  of  life  with  the  same  com- 
posed, conscientious  principle  with  whicli  he  had  usually  ad- 
dressed himself  to  any  other  duty. 

During  the  later  and  more  decisive  assaults  of  his  disease, 
reason  at  times  wavered  on  her  seat.  In  his  lucid  moments  he 
complained  that  his  mind  was  filled  with  a  teeming  multitude 
of  thoughts,  new,  varied,  strange — some  'af  them  perplexed 
and  troublous,  some  luminous  and  interesting.  May  it  not  be 
that  this  was  the  strife  between  the  bedimming.  enervating  do- 
minion of  the  llesh  on  the  one  hand,  and  the  dawnings  of  that 
nobler  life  to  wliicli  the  spirit  rises  when  it  bursts  from  the 
mortal  coil,  on  the  other;  and  as  the  doubtful  tide  of  combat 
rolled  to  and  fro,  the  shadows  of  earth-born  dimness  and  con- 
fusion were  alternating  with  gleams  of  Heaven's  own  light 
over  his  soul? 

In  these  seasons  the  influence  of  his  predominant  tastes 
and  pursuits  was  strongly  visible.  His  mind  was  busy  with 
the  Word  of  Grod,  expounding,  or  investigating  its  treasures  in 
the  original  tongues. 

Three  days  before  his  death  he  said,  "It  seems  to  me  that 
all  the  difficult  i)assages  of  Scripture  I  have  ever  investigated 
are  present  to  my  eye  now,  in  Oreek,  Hebrew,  or  Chaldee,  and 
all  clamoring  for  settlement.  But  I  tell  them  all.  Go  away,  I 
am  sick,  and  cannot  attend  to  you."  The  last  of  these  seasons 
of  wandering  was  the  m:)rniug  of  the  Lord's  day  on  wliicli  he 
died.  During  this  he  said  to  one  of  his  nurses,  "See  that  wall- 
it  is  all  written  over  with  Scripture  promises;  and  they  are  in 
letters  so  large  that  I  can  read  them  every  one."    It  was  an- 


426  MEMOIRS   OF   FRANCIS   S.    SAMPSON,    D.    D. 

swcred,  "Oil  no,  there  is  nothing  there,  except  the  plastering." 
15nr  he  persisted,  "Yes — they  are  there — cannot  1  see  them? 
Lay  your  head  here,  beside  mine,  and  then  jou  will  see  them 
plain."  She  wishing  to  beguile  him  into  more  composure  said, 
"Oh.  don'r  think  of  these  things — shut  your  eyes,  and  try  to  be 
quier."  "Why,"  replied  he,  ''may  I  not  read  them?  I  know  it 
is  the  Sabbath;  but  they  are  all  Sunday  reading — they  are  all 
from  the  Scripture." 

Now.  wlience  were  those  characters,  in\isible  to  all  oth- 
ers, but  so  distinct  to  his  failing  eye-sight?  Doubtless,  they 
were  recalled  fram  the  stores  of  recollection,  where  they  had 
lain  hid,  apparently  lost  to  himself,  by  a  memory  stimulated 
into  preternatural  activity,  either  by  the  approach  of  the  spir- 
it's release  from  material  bonds,  or  by  the  inexplicable  influ- 
ence of  disease.  And  now  the  vivid  conception  was  so  bodied 
forth  to  the  mind's  eve,  in  the  season  of  excitement,  as  to  seem 
to  liim  actually  pictured  on  the  diseased  retina,  where  the  real 
images  of  the  external  world  were  fading  dimly  into  darkness. 
And  thus  the  walls  were  covered,  to  his  eye,  with  the  ample 
scrolls  of  a  memory  enriched  by  years  of  study.  How  merci- 
fully does  God  deal  with  his  children?  Here  it  was  so  'or- 
dered, that  those  hours,  which,  in  our  apprehensions,  we  only 
think  of  as  filled  with  anguish  and  fear,  were  beguiled  with 
the  contemplation  of  those  sacred  truths  w^hich  had  been  his 
delight  in  health.  And  is  there  not  here  another  illustration  of 
that  theory  which  seems  S3  like  truth — 'that  every  impression 
ever  made  on  the  memory,  though  it  may  seem  to  us  obliterat- 
ed, is  still  there,  and  will  some  day  be  revived,  that  man's  soul 
is  but  a  fearful  'Palimpsest^''*  where  the  earlier  records  are. 
only  in  seeming,  removed  to  make  way  for  the  later,  and  all 
the  labarynthlne  history  will  stand  out  in  letters  of  light,  genial 
or  lurid,  to  be  re-read  by  the  s'oul  in  eternity. 

But  after  this.  Dr.  Sampson  became  more  composed,  and 
his  self  possession  returned  completely;  nor  did  it  leave  him 
again  till  the  last  moment.  The  strife  between  the  powers  of 
life  and  disease  was  decided;  pain  ceased,  and  he  gently  passed 
away.  A  few  hours  before  the  closing  scene,  his  children  were 
jihiced  around  his  bed  side,  to  receive  his  last  wards:  but  the 

*DeQuincey, 


MEMOIRS    OF  FRANCIS    S.    SAMPSON,    D.    D.  427 

efrort  to  speak  to  them  was  so  laborious,  that  at  tlie  suggeis- 
riou  of  one  of  the  physicians,  he  relinquished  it.  After  they 
reiiii^d,  he  said  with  the  most  extreme  difficulty,  gasping  a 
word  a'  a  time  in  whispers,  between  his  labored  respirations: 
"1  liadsome  things  which  I  wished  to  say  to  them;  but  perhaps 
it  is  most  wisely  ordered  that  I  should  not  say  them.  They 
know  how  I  have  lived.  I  have  always  taught  them  that  God's 
^^'ord  i^  the  onl}'  supreme  rule  of  life.  They  have  that — and  it 
is  eiuiugh.  Perhaps  they  might  have  put  my  last  words  be- 
fore God's  Word."  This  was  the  last  connected  sentence  he 
spoke. 

How  could  he,  whose  business  was  to  expound  the  Sacred 
8crij)tures,  have  closed  his  life  more  appropriately,  than  with 
such  an  acquiiescence  in  their  complete  sufficiency — coming  as 
it  did  from  the  heart  of  a  dying  father? 

Thu:s  he  quietly  passed  away,  about  5  o'clock  in  the  after- 
noon. The  folbwing  Tuesday,  he  was  borne  to  the  grave,  in 
the  Seminary  burying  ground,  by  the  hands  of  his  })upils,  and  in 
the  presence  of  a  multitude,  every  one  of  whom  seemed  a  sin- 
cere mourner. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 


Practical  Teachings  of  such  a  Life.  Reward  of  Patience  and  Faith 
Humility  crowned  with  Honor.  The  Price  of  great  Usefulness-  Home 
Institutions  must  be  sustained.  Men  of  deep  toned  Piety  and  pro- 
found Scholarship  demanded. 

And  here  we  should  end  our  task,  if  we  listened  only  to 
the  promptings  of  our  own  feelings — leaving  this  life  and  this 
death  t'D  speak  for  ttliemselves.  But  it  is  necessary  that  w(? 
should  endeavor  to  enforce,  more  pointedly,  a  few  of  the  im- 
pressive lessons  which  Providence  has  taught  us  in  giving,  and 
then  taking,  such  a  man.  Of  the  appeal  which  his  exannple 
speaks  to  the  pious  youth  of  our  churches,  to  devote  thenn- 
selves  wholly  to  God,  of  tlie  loss  which  the  Seminary  and  the 
Presbyterian  church  has  sustained,  of  the  darkness  of  this  act 
of  her  head,  and  of  the  duty  of  implicit  trust  in  the  righteomsi- 
uess  of  his  mysterious  dealings,  nothing  will  be  said. 


428  MEMOIRS    OF    FRANCIS    S.    SAMPSON,    D.    D. 

But  looking  back  to  tiie  source  of  Dr.  Sampson's  Christian 
life,  in  the  holy  example,  prayers  and  instructi'3ns  of  the  Rev. 
Tliointon  Rogers,  we  see  a  delightful  illustration  of  the  truth, 
that  "he  which  converteth  the  sinner  from  the  error  of  his 
wa^'s,"  not  only  "saveth  a  soul  froiii  death,  hut  hideth  a  mul- 
titude of  sins."  \Yhen  that  good  man  la^bored  in  faith  for  the 
salvation  of  his  irreligious  pupil,  he  little  knew  what  he  wais 
doing.  His  thought  was  to  pluck  him  from  perdition,  and  to 
make  him  a  Christian,  possibly  an  humble  minister.  He  did 
not  know  that  he  was  instrumentally  contributing  the  most  es- 
sential part  t'3wards  the  raising  up  of  a  master  in  Israel,  whose 
steady  and  benign  Mght  was  to  be  a  blessing  to  two  great 
coanmonwealths,  and  whose  Christian  virtues  were  to  be  re- 
produced in  man}'  scores  of  pastors,  many  of  them,  in  their 
turn,  pillars  in  the  church,  and  fountains  of  an  influence,  na- 
tional in  its  extent!  Nor  do  we  know,  when  we  endeavor  to 
do  good,  with  how  glorious  a  result  our  generous  Master  may 
reward  us.  Let  us,  then,  not  be  weary  in  well  doing.  IVfr. 
Rogers  died  in  the  prime  of  his  life,  and  his  friends  mourned 
over  the  mystery  of  such  a  stroke  upon  such  a  man,  as  we  have 
lately  over  the  loss  of  his  more  eminent  pupil.  But,  if  his 
ministerial  life  had  resulted  in  nothing  else  but  the  gift  oif 
one  such  man  to  the  church,  would  it  not  have  been  a  sufficient 
result? 

Again.  The  weakness  of  our  faith  often  staggers  at  sacri- 
fices of  worldly  good  to  be  made,  and  difficulties  to  be  en- 
countered, in  the  path  of  duty.  Let  all  to  whom  the  voice  of 
God  comes,  learn  by  the  example  of  our  brother,  to  dismiss 
these  fears,  and  trust  the  united  command  and  promise,  "Trust 
in  the  Lord  and  do  good;  so  shalt  thou  dwell  in  the  land,  and 
verily  thou  shalt  be  fed."  It  was  required  of  Dr.  Sampson,  in 
order  to  become  a  minister  of  the  Gospel,  to  relinquish,  ap- 
parently, the  direct  road  to  wealth  and  distinction.  In  follow- 
ing the  beck  of  his  master,  he  was  eoaiipelled  to  brave  many 
obstacles,  and  face  threatening  privations.  But  they  were,  at 
last,  little  more  than  threats.  By  the  divine  'blessing  on  his 
own  economy  and  industry,  he  was  able  at  all  times  to  sur- 
round himself,  and  those  dear  to  him,  with  the  comforts  and 
decencies  of  life;  and  these  increased  ultimately  to  an  ample 
competency.    His  temporal  life  knew  no  real  want;  and  there 


MEMOIRS   Ot*   FtlANOtS   S.    SAMPSON,   D     C.  42i) 

was  no  actual  sacrifice  of  that  external  comfort  with  which 
unbelief  would  have  scared  him  from  his  duty.  And  after  all — 
in  seeking  the  testimony  of  a  good  conscience  towards  God, 
he  found  that  distinction  which  he  had  not  sought;  he  gratified 
Ms  friends  by  winning  a  far  higher  social  position  than  that 
which  he  seemed  to  relinquish  to  serve  Grod;  and  became  the 
ornament  and  pride  of  his  family.  Let  no  man  be  afraid  to 
trust  Grod. 

We  find  in  the  foregoing  history  also,  a  beautiful  example 
of  the  honor  which  comes  to  true  humility.  If  there  was  one 
moral  trait  pre-eminent  in  Dr.  Sampson,  it  was  modesty.  The 
desire  for  self-display  seemed  to  be  foreign  to  his  nature.  He 
ever  thought  others  better  than  himself.  He  never  schemed  or 
planned  for  promotion,  but  was  guided  by  a  magnanimous  and 
elevated  delicacy,  which  refused  to  lift  a  finger,  even  by  any 
honorable  competition,  to  secure  distinction  for  himself.  And 
in  every  public  position,  on  tlie  floor  of  every  church  court,  his 
humility  shrank  from  that  prominence  to  which  his  wisdom 
entitled  him.  But  while,  with  a  single  eye,  forgetful  of  self, 
he  was  taking  care  of  his  Master's  interests,  that  Master  to'ok 
care  of  his  reputation.  Though  his  position  was  one  of  scholas- 
tic privacy,  and  his  talents  were  rather  solid  than  brilliant,  he 
steadily  grew  upon  the  appreciation  of  his  brethren,  until  his 
early  death  found  him  enjoying  a  confidence,  love  and  admira- 
tion, solid  and  extensive  enough  to  satisfy  any  ambition.' Where 
is  the  man,  of  only  thirty-nine  years,  within  the  limits  of  the 
whole  Presbyterian  church,  whose  death  would  now  leave  a 
gap  harder  to  be  filled,  or  excite  a  sorrow  more  general  and 
sincere? 

While  our  brother  sought  out  the  lowest  seat,  God  said  to 
him,  and  the  church  repeated,  ''Go  up  higher."  Would  that  this 
example  might  seal  upon  the  heart  of  every  young  minister  in 
our  church  the  lesson,  "Every  one  that  exalteth  himself  shall 
be  abased,  and  he  that  humbleth  himself  shall  be  exalted.'' 
Would  that  all  the  unworthy  arts  of  an  unsanctifled  ambition 
were  as  unknown  in  the  church  as  they  were  in  the  conduct  of 
this  pure.  Christian  gentleman.  They  are  as  foolish  and  sui- 
cidal as  they  are  unworthy. 

The  results  of  Dr.  Sampson's  life  aud  labors  present  a  pain- 
ful— yea,  almost  a  cruel  illustration  of  the  evils  which  have 


430  MEMOIRS   OF  FRANCIS   S.    SAMPSON,   D.    D. 

more  than  once  flowed  from  the  tardy  and  partial  co-operation, 
extended  by  our  churches  at  the  South,  to  their  own  public  in- 
stitntions.  Here  were  industry,  talents  and  acquirements  thar 
would  have  been  sought  after  and  valued  hy  the  largest  theolo- 
gical schools  in  the  land.  Believing  that  (iod's  providence 
pointed  him  to  Union  Seminary  as  his  post,  'he  pouied  out  the 
riches  of  his  mental  treasures  in  her  service.  And  to  purchase 
what?  Was  it  a  worthy  result  of  such  a  life,  or  a  sufficient' 
recompense  for  such  an  expenditure,  to  train  a  body  of  pupils, 
ranging,  during  the  sixteen  years  of  his  labors,  from  eleven  to 
twenty?  Let  us  not  be  misunderstood.  We  know  that,  intrin- 
sically, the  training  of  one  true  minister — yea,  the  salvation  of 
one  soul,  is  worth  the  whole  labors  of  an  army  of  the  most 
learned  divines  during  their  whole  life.  And  were  there  but 
the  one  soul  in  the  world,  liable  to  perdition,  it  would  be  tlie 
part  oif  sober  wisdom  to  expend  all  of  this  labor  in  its  behalf 
alone.  But  while  the  field  is  so  vast,  and  so  white  to  the  har- 
vest, and  opportunities  for  doing  good  open  so  immeasurably 
before  the  eye  of  Christian  enterprise,  it  is  a  waste  to  expend, 
for  a  very  few,  labors  and  talents  which  might  elsewhere  have 
blessed  a  multitude.  We  may  securely  ask  this  question,  Sup- 
jjose  that  the  warmest  friends  of  Union  Seminary  in  1838,  being 
also  the  true  friends  of  Dr.  Sampson  and  of  Christ's  cause, 
could  have  foreseen  that  he  had  just  sixteen  precious  years  to 
labor;  that  he  would  soon  attain  such  eminent  capacities  for 
his  work;  and  that  in  spite  of  his  acknowledged  abilities,  the 
lack  of  hearty  co-operation  and  wise  and  seasonable  effort  on 
the  part  of  others,  would  cabin  and  confine  his  field  of  use- 
fulness to  this  narrow  bound — would  they  themselves  have  been 
willing,  would  they  have  dared,  to  urge  him  to  make  the  un- 
equal sacrifice?  A  regard  to  the  interests  of  Christ's  kingdom 
would  have  forbidden  it.  They  would  have  said,  "We  dare  not 
.selfishly  expend  so  much,  for  so  small  a  result.  The  field  is  the 
world.  Let  him  go  where,  being  better  sustained,  he  can  effect 
something  larger  for  his  Master."'  But  they  hoped  better  things 
for  their  own  enterprise;  and  hoping,  they  honestly  invited 
him  to  enlist  in  that  important  cause,  in  which  they  were  sin- 
cerely struggling.  He  obeyed  the  call.  He  toiled  on,  hoping 
against  hope,  with  magnanimous  seilf-devotion;  and  most  like- 
ly, sacrificed  not  only  his  labors,  but  his  life,  an  expenditure 


MEMOIRS   OF  FRANCIS   S.    SAMPSON,   D.   D.  431 

parlially  useless,  iii  eiideavoriuji'  to  bear  his  uueqiial  buideii. 
And  now,  after  the  catastrophe,  as  his  friends  stand  over  the 
grave  of  so  much  that  was  noble  in  morals,  wise  in  understand- 
ing and  vigorous  in  action,  they  feel  a  regret,  cruel,  yea,  im- 
medicable, except  by  the  submissiveness  of  faith,  that  his  prec- 
ious life  was,  in  part,  spent  in  vain.  Not  in  vain,  thank  Cxod! 
as  to  his  reward,  nor  useless  as  to  those  indirect  results,  which, 
we  trust,  the  wisdom  aind  grace  of  God  will  bring  out  of  his 
labors  and  example.  But  he  was  permitted  to  reap  but  a  part 
of  those  abundant  fruits  whicli  such  labors  should  have  earned, 
in  his  own  life  time,  in  such  a  country  and  such  an  age  as  ours. 
And  this  regret  is  ever  embittered  by  the  s3"mptoms  of  return- 
ing prosperity  and  extending  usefulness,  which  now  appear  in 
his  darling  institution.  How  touching  the  fate,  that  after  six- 
teen years  of  toil,  and  hopes  deferred,  he  was  snatched  awavi 
just  as  the  smiles  of  success  began  to  gladden  liis  'heart!  But 
here,  our  regret  is  softened  by  the  thought,  that  he  has  en- 
tered upon  a  reward  of  his  labors  far  sweeter  than  that  of  a 
visible  success. 

But  this  is  not  the  first  (would  that  it  might  be  the  last) 
instance,  in  which  our  people  have  been  half  aroused  by  a  par- 
tiail  sense  of  our  social  necessities,  so  as  to  set  on  foot  some, 
weak  and  half  endowed  effort  for  their  supply.  And  then  they 
supinely  relax,  and  even  make  the  half  starved  weakness  of 
those  institutions  which  they  call  their  own,  and  whose  ill  suc- 
cess is  their  own  loss  and  shame,  the  pretext  for  bestowing  their 
indolent  and  heedless  favors  on  foreign  institutions,  which  are 
flourishing  and  popular  because  their  natural  owners  and  sup- 
porters, with  a  wiser  forecast  and  energy,  stood  by  them  in 
their  weakness.  Meantime,  those  nobler  spirits,  who  have  been 
thrust  forward  into  the  breach,  and  whose  clearer  vision  sees 
the  vital  importance  of  home  enterprises  to  all  our  vital  inter- 
ests, wear  away  the  springs  of  life,  in  a  generous  but  useless 
sacrifice.  And  (meantime  the  commonwealth,  for  the  lack  of 
these  home  institutions,  lags  farther  and  farther  in  the  rear, 
and  sends  forth  her  money,  her  sons,  her  energies,  her  life 
l)lood,  to  fecundate  the  soils  and  adorn  the  fame  of  rival  states! 
Must  a  hecatomb  of  her  noblest  lives  be  immolated,  before  the 
slumbering  spirit  of  Virginia  will  awake  to  know  and  embrace 
her  own  interests? 


432  MEMOIRS    OF  FRANCIS   S.    ^AMPSON,   D.    D. 

But  }*et,  as  long  as  there  is  hope  of  Virginia,  tliat  "she  is 
not  dead,  but  sleepeth."  let  her  sons  hear  the  voice  which  de- 
mands that  they  shall  be  satisfied  with  none  but  the  liighe.st 
acquirements.  In  the  example  which  we  have  been  contemplat- 
ing, the  voung  ministers  of  our  church  ma}'  see  the  importance, 
and  the  solemn  obligation  of  aiming  at  the  highest  standard  of 
theological  learning.  If  the  church,  if  our  Synods,  would  retain 
their  respectabilitv  and  influence,  thev  must  have  a  reserved 
corps  of  men,  whose  well-trained  faculties,  wide  scholarship, 
and  elevated  character,  will  fit  the^m  to  step  at  once  into  any 
of  our  places  of  trust  and  responsibility.  Otherwise,  we  are  re- 
duced to  one  of  two  equally  mortifying  and  ruinous  alterna- 
tives, t3  commit  those  responsible  posts  to  ill-furnislied  and  in- 
competent men,  who  will  betray  the  influence  and  character  of 
our  enterprises,  in  this  age  of  lionorable  competition  and  vigor- 
ous progress  in  all  other  sections  of  our  land,  or  else  go 
begging  to  other  sections,  to  get  such  men  as  they  can 
afford  to  spare  us.  Have  these  Synods  such  a  b:»dy  of  reserved 
talent  and  learning  now^?  If  the  valuable  men.  who  now  fill  the 
professprships  and  presidencies  of  our  Presbyterian  Colleges 
and  State  Universities,  were  removed  by  death,  could  the  Syn- 
ods point  with  confidence  to  sons  of  theirs,  and  tell  them  to 
step  into  the  breaches,  and  account  them  fitted  to  take  up  the 
fallen  mantles?  If  the  chairs  of  our  Seminary  were  vacated, 
would  or  would  not  the  Synods  be  at  fault,  in  their  search  for 
successors,  to  wh3m  they  could  confidingly  commit  tho.se  im- 
portant posts?  When  Dr.  Sampson  fell  prematurely,  did  they 
feel  that  it  was  easy  to  find  many  men  in  their  borders,  from 
among  whom  to  select  his  successor? 

It  is  not  necessary  that  these  questions  be  answered  here. 
There  may  be  an  evil  in  the  church  far  more  portentous  than  a 
stinted  supply  of  ministers.  It  is  that  which  comes,  when  her 
younger  ministry  are  satisfied  with  those  more  shallow  attain- 
ments, which  secure  them  a  modicum  of  popular  applause  and 
favor,  indolently  recline  upon  the  dependence  of  a  facile  and 
plausible  pulpit  talent,  and  relax  those  severer  studies,  by  which 
the  profound  scholar  is  formed.  It  is  an  evil  which  strikes  at 
he  root  of  our  prosperity-,  and  when  it  prevails,  can  only  be  re- 
paired at  the  root,  and  therefore,  repaired  tediously.    For  these 


MEMOIES    OF  TRANCIS   S.    SAMPSON.   D.    D.  433 

surface  men  cannot  even  reproduce  their  kind,  sorry  as  is  their 
kind,  and  the  general  prevalence  of  such  a  type  of  ministerial 
acquirement  renders  inevitable  a  subsequent  dearth  of  even 
second  rate  ^mimsters,  and  a  state  of  starveling  dependence  on 
other  sections. 

We  therefore  beseech  our  young  brethren,  as  for  our  life, 
to  imitate  the  noble  example  which  God  has  mercifully  given 
our  Zion  iu  our  lost  brother,  and  to  resolve  that  they  will  be 
satisfied  with  nothing  short  of  the  fullest  development  of  facul- 
ties, the  soundest  acquirements,  and  the  most  scrijitural,  hum^ 
ble  and  manly  piety,  which  are  within  the  reach  jf  the  most 
sustained  diligence.  This  is  no  less  the  commaud  of  duty,  than 
of  a  sanctified  ambition.  We  are  to  love  and  serve  God  with 
all  our  heart,  and  mind,  and  strength,  and  soul.  We  are  par- 
tially guilty  of  burying  our  talents,  unless  we  prepare  ourselves 
to  meet  the  highest  exigencies  which  are  within  the  possibilities 
of  our  natural  gifts. 

In  the  life  of  Dr.  Sampson,  we  see  how  directly  that  kind  of 
scholarship  which  is  usually  esteemed  least  practical  in  a  min- 
ister of  the  gospel,  an  extensive  acquaintance  with  oriental  lit- 
erature, was  made  to  subserve  the  interests  of  the  church — yea, 
liow  immediately  and  necessarily  those  interests  would  have 
sutt'ered,  for  the  lack  of  them. 

If  there  is  one  thing  proved  by  an  experience  of  some  twen- 
ty-five years,  it  is,  that  none  but  first  rate  men  can  now  effec- 
tually subserve  the  institutions  and  interests  of  these  Synods, 
in  their  prominent  posts.  To  secure  so  many  such  men  as  they 
will  need,  there  must  be  a  liberal  number,  especially  among 
their  younger  ministry,  capable  of  the  greatest  things,  from 
among  whom  they  may  choose.  We  do  not  expect  to  find  plants 
of  tallest  and  most  vigorous  growth  among  the  few  untimely 
shoots  which  spring  up  here  and  there  iu  the  season  of  wintry 
sterility.  We  expect  to  find  them  all  puny,  for  the  same  rea- 
son which  makes  them  few.  And  if  one  is  found  truly  vigor- 
ous, it  is  a  true  lusus  naturae.  We  look  for  the  full  grown  plant 
amidst  the  teeming  abundance  of  the  fruitful  summer,  and  in 
the  thickest  part  of  a  thick  and  emulous  crop. 

Unless  we  have,  then,  such  a  body  of  noble  men,  ''whose 
hearts  God  hath  touched,"  we  do  not  say  our  cause  is  lost,  but 
we  say  that  success,  worthy  of  the  cause,  is  impossible.    The 


434  MEMOIRS    OF   FRANCIS    S.    SAMPSON.   D.    D. 

church  expects  every  man  ro  be  the  greatest  he  can  be.  She 
needs  men  who  have  begnn.  in  the  first  phice,  by  hiying  tlie 
foundation  of  a  thorougli  and  full  academical  course,  which 
entirely  transcends  that  scanty  range  of  scholarshii)  which  is 
too  often  the  limit  of  our  collegiate  courses;  or  else,  if  this  is 
lacking,  men  who  have  repaired  the  lack  by  the  herculean  exer- 
tions of  later  yeai-s.  Then,  they  must  be  men  who  superadd  to 
thif  rot  only  such  a  theological  training  as  will  pass  them  ered- 
it:i)  l\  through  Presbyteries,  and  suffice  for  the  making  of  gen- 
teel little  sermons,  but  a  thorough  and  ever  widening  knowl- 
edge of  the  original  languages  of  the  Scriptures,  and  the  do- 
ings and  doctrines  of  the  great  masters  of  theobgy  in  all  ages. 
They  must  also  be  men  free  from  trivial  but  odious  tricks  of 
personal  indulgence  or  weakness — men.  whose  directness  of 
aim,  whose  humble  dignity  of  character,  whose  self  possession, 
whose  fervent  energy  in  doing  good  will  impress  and  awe  the 
popular  mind.  For,  without  these  iiioial  traits,  brilliant  facul- 
ties and  acquirements  will  be  to  the  church  little  more  than 
splendid  vexations.  And  last — they  must  be  men  whose  eye  is 
single,  whose  hearts  and  purposes  are  governed  by  a  profound 
and  steady  love  of  God.  Such  was  Francis  S.  Sampson.  Would 
that  all  the  sons  of  our  church  might  be  such.  She  has  had  no 
more  pure,  more  symmetrical,  more  elevated  example,  to  which 
she  may  point  licr  yonng  ministers  and  members,  and  say,  "Tie 
ve  followers  of  liini,  even  as  he  also  was  of  Christ." 


TRUE  COURAGE. 


A  Disfoiirse  rommemorative  of  Lieut. -GeDeral  Thomas  J.  Jack 

son. 


Note:  Geueial  Jackson  died  Mar  10th,  18G3.  In  June  fol- 
h)vving-,  the  author  was  ui-fiently  requested  to  deliver  a  memor- 
ial sermon  for  him  in  Richmond.  Havinj;-  acceded  to  this  re- 
(juest,  he  prepared  the  following-  discourse,  and  delivered  it  in 
the  First  I'resbyterian  Church,  the  evening  of  the  first  Sabbath 
of  June,  before  a  vast  assemblage  of  officers,  soldiers,  and  citi- 
zens. If  the  reader  lias  happened  to  have  seen  also  the  Life  of 
(Jeneral  Jackson,  he  will  notice  a  certain  similarity  of  thoughts, 
and  even  of  language,  in  the  sermon  and  in  some  parts  of  the 
narrative.  The  author  has  not  been  careful  ta  suppress  the 
whole  of  these  in  republishing  the  sermon,  because  he  was  not 
afraid  of  the  charge  of  repeating  his  own  matter,  where  it  form- 
ed so  appropriate,  and  indeed,  so  necessary  a  part  of  both  com- 
positions. 


■Be  not  afi-aid  of  them  that  kill  the  body,  and  after  that,  have  no  more  than 
they  can  do.  But  I  will  forewarn  you  whom  ye  shall  fear:  Fear  him  which,  after  he 
hath  killed,  hath  power  to  cast  into  hell:  yea.  I  .say  unto  you.  fear  him.'"— Luke  12:4-5. 

A  little  wisdom  and  experience  will  teach  us  to  be  very 
modest,  in  interpreting  God's  purposes  by  his  providences.  ''It 
is  the  glory  of  the  Lord  to  conceal  a  thing."  His  designs  are 
too  vast  and  complex  for  our  puny  minds  to  infer  them,  from 
the  fragments  of  his  ways  which  fall  under  our  eyes.  Yet,  it  is 
evident,  that  He  intends  us  to  learn  instruction  from  the  events 
which  occur  before  us  under  the  regulation  of  his  holy  will. 
The  profane  are  more  than  once  rebuked  by  him  (as  Is.  5:  12) 
l»ecause  "they  regard  not  rhe  work  of  the  Lord,  neither  con- 
sider the  operation  of  his  hands."  And  our  Saviour  sharply 
chides  the  Jewish  Pharisees:  "O  ye  hypocrites!  ye  can  discern 
the  face  of  the  sky;  but  can  ye  not  discern  the  signs  of  the 

435 


436  TEUE  COURAGE. 

times?"  (Matt.  16:  3.)  We  are  not  therefore  to  refuse  the  lea- 
sons  of  those  events  which  Providence  evolves,  because  caution 
and  humility  are  required  in  learning  them.  We  have  a  guide, 
which  will  conduct  us  securely  to  the  understanding  of  so  much 
of  them  as  God  intends  us  to  study:  That  guide  is  the  Holy 
Scriptures.  Among  the  several  principles  which  they  lay  down 
for  the  explanation  of  God's  dealings,  it  is  suflQcient  for  our 
present  task,  to  declare  this  one:  That  the  characters  of  his 
children,  which  exhibit  the  scriptural  model,  are  given  as  ex- 
aanples,  to  be  studied  and  imitated  by  us.  He  would  thus  teach 
us  more  than  those  abstract  conceptions  of  Christian  excellence, 
which  are  conveyed  by  general  definitions  of  duty;  he  would 
give  us  a  living  picture  and  concrete  idea.  He  thus  aims  to 
stimulate  our  aspirations  and  efforts,  by  showing  us  that  the  at 
tainments  of  holiness  are  within  human  reach.  He  enstamps 
the  moral  likeness  on  the  imitative  soul  by  the  warmth  of  ad- 
miration and  love.  That  such  is  the  use  God  intends  us  to 
make  of  noble  examples,  the  Apostle  James  teaches  us  (5:  10) — 
"Take,  my  brethren,  the  prophets,  who  have  spoken  in  the  name 
of  the  Lord,  for  an  example  of  suffering  affliction  and  of  pa- 
tience"'; and  the  Epistle  to  the  Hebrews  (6:  12 j  when  ir  desires 
us  to  "be  followers  of  them  who,  through  faith  and  patience, 
inherit  the  promises."' 

Common  sense  teaches  us  then,  from  these  texts,  that  the 
lesson  is  important  and  impressive,  in  proportion  as  the  ex 
ample  given  us  was  illustrious.  By  this  rule,  God  addresses  to 
us  instruction  of  solemn  emphasis,  in  the  character,  and  the 
death,  which  we  have  now  met  to  commemorate.  Our  dead  hero 
is  God's  sermon  to  us,  his  embodied  admonition,  his  incorporate 
discourse,  to  inculcate  upon  us  the  virtues  with  which  he  was 
adorned  by  the  Holy  Ghost;  and  especially  those  traits  of  the 
citizen,  the  Christian,  and  the  soldier,  now  most  essential  to 
the  times.  He  calls  us,  not  to  exhaust  the  occasion  in  useless 
sensibilities,  but  to  come  and  learn  the  beauty  of  holiness,  by 
the  light  of  a  shining  example;  and  to  let  our  passionate  love 
and  grief  burn  in  upon  the  plastic  heart,  the  impress  of  his  prin- 
ciples. Happy  shall  I  be,  if  I  can  so  conceive  and  execute  my 
humble  ta.sk,  as  to  permit  this  cliaracter  to  speak  its  own  higli 
lesson  to  your  hearts.  The  only  reason  which  makes  you  think 
this  task  appropriate  to  me,  is  doubtless  this:  that  I  had  the 


TRUE   COURAGE.  437 

privik'.ue  of  his  friendship,  and  an  opportunify  for  inlimately 
observing  his  character,  during  the  most  brilliant  part  of  his 
career.  The  expectations  which  you  form  from  this  fact,  must 
be  my  justification  from  the  charge  of  egatism.  if  I  should  al- 
lude to  my  own  observations  of  him,  in  exemplifying  these  in- 
structions. But  I  must  also  forewarn  you,  that  should  there 
be  any  expectation  of  mere  anecdote  to  gratify  an  idle  curios- 
ity, or  of  any  disclosures  of  confidential  intercourse,  now  doubly 
sanctified  by  the  seal  of  the  tomb,  it  will  not  be  gratified.  And 
let  it  be  added,  that  however  the  heart  may  prompt  encomiums 
on  the  departed,  these  are  not  the  direct  object,  but  only  the 
incidental  result,  of  this  discourse.  I  stand  here,  as  God's  her- 
ald, in  God's  sanctuary,  on  his  holy  day,  by  his  authority.  My 
business  is,  not  to  praise  any  man,  however  beloved  and  be- 
wailed, but  only  to  unfold  God's  message  through  his  life  and 
death.  Among  that  circle  of  virtues  which  his  symmetrical 
character  displayed,  since  time  would  fail  me  to  do  justice  to 
all.  I  propose  more  especially,  to  select  one.  for  our  considera- 
tion, his  rhristian  courage. 

Courage  is  the  opposite  of  fear.  But  fear  may  be  described 
either  as  a  feeling  and  appreciation  of  existing  danger,  or  an 
undue  yielding  to  that  feeling.  It  is  in  the  latter  sense,  that  it 
is  unworthy.  In  the  foiiner,  it  is  the  necessary  result  of  the 
natural  desire  for  well-being,  in  a  creature  endued  with  reflec- 
tion and  forecast.  Hence,  a  true  courage  implies  the  existence 
of  fear,  in  the  form  of  a  sense,  that  is,  of  a  feeling  of  danger. 
For  courage  is  but  the  overcoming  of  that  feeling  by  a  worthier 
motive.  A  danger  unfelt  is  as  though  it  did  not  exist.  Xo  man 
could  be  called  brave  for  advancing  coolly  upon  a  risk  of  which 
he  was  totally  unconscious.  It  is  only  where  there  is  an  exer- 
tion of  fortitude  in  bearing  up  against  the  consciousness  of 
peril,  that  true  courage  has  place.  If  there  is  any  man  who  can 
literally  say  that  "he  knows  .no  fear,"  then  he  deserves  no 
credit  for  his  composure.  True,  a  generous  fortitude,  in  re- 
sisting the  consciousness  of  danger,  will  partly  extinguish  it; 
so  that  a  sensibility  to  it,  over- sensitive  and  prominent  among 
the  emotions,  is  an  indication  of  a  mean  self-love. 

There  are  three  emotions  which  claim  the  name  of  eoairage. 
Tlie  first  is  animal  courage.  This  is  but  the  ferment  of  animal 
passions  and  blind  sympathies,  combined  with  an  irrational 


438  TRUE   COURAGE. 

tliouglitlessues.s.  The  man  is  courajicous.  nilv  liccaiise  lie  re- 
fuses to  reflect;  bold  because  he  is  bliud.  Tliis  animal  hardi- 
hood, according  to  the  obvious  truths  explained  above,  does 
not  deserve  the  name  of  true  courage;  because  there  is  no  ra- 
tional fortitude  in  resisting  the  consciousness  of  danger.  And 
it  is  little  worthy  of  trust;  for  having  no  foundation  in  a  reason- 
ing self  command,  a  sudden,  vivid  perception  of  the  evil  hither- 
to unnoted,  may.  at  any  moment.  suj»])lant  it  with  a  panic,  as 
nnreasoni-  and  intense  as  the  ])revious  fury.  The  second 
species  of  courage  is  that  ])rompted  by  the  spirit  of  personal 
honor.  There  is  a  consciousness  of  risk;  but  it  is  manfully  con- 
trolled by  the  sentiment  of  pride,  the  keener  fear  of  reproach, 
and  the  desire  of  a})plause.  This  kind  of  fortitude  is  more  wor- 
thy of  the  name  of  c oui-age,  because  it  exhibits  self-command. 
But  after  all.  the  motive  is  personal  and  selfish;  and  therefore 
the  sentiment  does  not  rise  to  the  level  of  a  virtue.  The  third 
species  .is  the  moral  courage  of  him  who  fears  (lod,  and,  for 
that  reason,  fears  nothing  else.  There  is  an  intelligent  a])pre- 
hension  of  danger;  there  is  the  natural  instinct  of  self-love  desir- 
ing to  preserve  its  own  well-being;  but  it  is  curbed  and  governed 
by  the  sense  of  duty,  and  desire  for  the  approbation  of  God. 
This  alone  is  tiue  couiage;  true  virtue;  for  it  is  rational,  and 
its  motive  is  moral  and  unselfish.  It  is  a  true  Christian  grace, 
when  found  in  its  purest  forms,  a  grace  whose  highest  exem- 
plar, and  whose  source,  is  the  Divine  Redeemer;  whose  princi- 
ple is  that  i)arenr  grace  of  the  sun].fnith.  "David,  and  Samuel, 
and  the  prophets,  through  faith  subilued  kingdoms,  *  *  * 
waxed  valiant  in  tight,  turned  to  fiiglit  the  armies  of  the  aliens." 
(Heb.  11:  33,  31.)  Trust  in  God,  in  his  faithfulness,  his  apprt)- 
bation,  his  reward,  his  command  to  brave  the  ris(iues  allotted 
to  them,  was  their  motive.  But  "Christ  dwelleth  in  our  hearts 
by  faith."  (Eph.  3:  17.»  This  is  the  principle  by  which  the  soul 
of  the  believer  is  brought  into  living  union  with  Christ;  and 
the  heart,  otherwise  sapless  and  withered,  is  jienetrated  by  the 
vital  saj)  of  his  holy  Spirit.  He  is  the  head;  men  of  faith  his 
members;  he  the  stock;  they  the  branches;  his  divine  principles 
circulate  from  him  into  their  souls,  and  assimilate  them  to  him. 
But  the  whole  mission  of  Jesus  ("hrist  on  earth  is  a  divine  exr 
emplification  of  moral  courage.  What  was  it.  save  the  unsel- 
fish sentiment  of  duty,  overruling  the  anticipations  of  personal 


TRUE    COURAGE.  437 

evil,  whic-li  made  him  declare,  iu  prospect  of  all  the  woes  of  his 
iucaniatiou,  "Lo  I  come,  in  the  volume  of  the  book  it  is  writ- 
ten of  me;  I  delight  to  do  thy  will  Oh  mv  God?"'  What  else 
caused  hiui  to  press  forward  with  eager,  hungering  haste, 
through  tile  toils  and  obloquy  of  his  persecuted  life,  to  that 
baj)tism  of  blood,  which  awaited  him  in  Jerusalem?  What  else 
nerved  him,  when  deserted,  betrayed,  and  destined  to  death, 
desolate,  and  fainting,  amidst  a  pitiless  flood  of  enemies, 
one  word  of  disclaimer  might  have  rescued  him.  to  refuse  that 
word,  and  assert  his  rightful  kingship  over  Zion,  with  a  tenacity 
more  indomitable  than  the  grave?  Jesus  Christ  is  the  divine 
pattern  and  fountain  of  heroism.  Earth's  true  heroes  are  they 
who  derive  their  courage  from  him. 

Yet  it  is  true,  the  three  kinds  of  bravery  which  have  been 
defined,  may  be  mixed  in  many  breasts.  Some  who  have  true 
moral  courage  may  also  have  animal  hardihood;  and  others  of 
the  truly  brave  may  lack  it.  Xo  Christian  courage,  perhaps, 
exists  without  a  union  of  that  which  the  spirit  of  personal  hon- 
or, in  its  innocent  phase,  inspires;  and  many  men  of  honor  have 
perhaps  some  shade  of  the  pure  sentiment  of  duty,  mingled 
with  the  pride  and  self-glorifying,  which,  chiefly  nerve  their 
fortitude.  But  he  is  the  bravest  man  who  is  the  best  Christian.  It 
is  he  who  truly  fears  God,  who  is  entitled  to  fear  nothing  else. 

I.  He  whose  conduct  is  governed  by  the  fear  of  God,  is 
brave,  because  the  powers  of  his  soul  are  in  harmony.  There 
is  no  mutiny  or  war  within,  of  fear  against  shame,  of  duty 
against  safety,  of  conscience  and  evil  desire,  by  which  the  bad 
man  has  his  heart  unnerved.  All  the  nobler  capacities  of  the 
soul  combine  their  strength,  and  especially,  that  master  power, 
of  which  the  wicked  are  compelled  to  sing:  ''It  is  conscience 
that  makes  cowards  of  us  all,"  invigorates  the  soul  with  her 
]ilan(lits.    In  conscious  rectitude  there  is  strength. 

This  strength  General  Jackson  eminently  possessed.  He 
walked  iu  the  fear  of  God,  with  a  perfect  heart,  keeping  all  his 
commandments  and  ordinances,  blameless.  Never  has  it  been 
my  happiness  to  know  one  of  greater  purity  of  life,  or  more; 
regular  and  devout  habits  of  prayer.  As  ever  in  his  great  task- 
master's eye,  he  seemed  to  devote  every  hour  to  the  sentiment 
of  duty,  and  only  to  live  to  fulfill  his  charge  as  a  servant  of 
God.    Of  this  be  assured,  that  all  his  eminence  and  success  as 


440  TRUE   COURAGE. 

a  great  and  brave  soldier,  were  based  on  liis  eminence  and 
sanctity  as  a  Cliristian.  Tluis,  every  power  of  liis  sonl  wa» 
brought  to  move  in  sweet  accord,  under  the  guidance  of  an  en- 
lightened and  honest  conscience.  How  could  such  a  soul  fail 
to  be  courageous  for  the  right? 

But  especially  did  he  derive  firmness  and  decision,  frouL 
the  i)eculiar  strength  of  his  conviction  concerning  the  right- 
eousness and  necessity  of  this  war.  Had  he  not  sought  the  light 
of  the  Holy  Scriptures,  in  thorough  examination  and  prayer, 
had  his  pure  and  honest  conscience  not  justified  the  act,  even 
in  the  eye  of  that  Scai'cher  of  hearts,  whose  fear  was  his  ever- 
present,  ruling  principle,  never  would  he  have  drawn  his  sword 
in  this  great  quarrel,  at  the  prompting  of  any  sectional  pride,  or 
ambition,  or  interest,  or  anger,  or  dread  of  oblocjuy.  But  hav- 
ing judged  for  himself,  in  all  sincerity,  he  decided,  with  a  force 
t)f  conviction  as  fixed  as  the  everlasting  hills,  that  our  enemies 
were  the  aggressors,  that  they  assailed  vital,  essential  rights, 
and  that  resistance  unto  death  was  our  right  and  duty.  On  the 
correctness  of  that  decision,  reached  through  fervent  prayer, 
under  the  teachings  of  the  sure  word  of  Scripture,  through  the 
light  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  which  he  was  assured  God  vouchsafed 
to  him,  he  stood  prepared  to  risk,  not  only  earthly  prospects 
and  estate,  but  an  immortal  soul;  and  to  venture,  without  one 
quiver  of  doubt  or  fear,  before  the  irrevocable  bar  of  God  the 
Judge.  The  great  question:  ''What  if  I  die  in  this  quarrel," 
was  deliberately  settled;  so  deliberately,  so  maturely,  that  he 
was  ready  to  venture  his  everlasting  all  upon  the  belief  tha.t 
this  was  the  path  of  duty. 

II.  The  second  reason  which  makes  the  man  of  faith  brave, 
is  stated  in  the  context:  "Are  not  five  sparrows  sold  for  two 
farthings,  and  not  one  of  them  is  forgotten  before  God?  But 
even  the  very  hairs  of  your  head  are  all  numbered:  Fear  not 
therefore;  ye  are  of  more  value  than  many  sparrows."  God's 
special  providence  is  over  all  his  creatures,  and  all  their  ac- 
tions; it  is  over  them  that  fear  him;  for  their  good  only.  By 
that  almighty  and  o'mniscient  providence,  all  events  are  either 
produced;  or  at  least  permitted,  limited,  and  overruled.  There 
is  no  creature  so  great  as  to  resist  its  power,  none  so  minute 
as  to  evade  its  wisdom.  Each  particular  act  among  the  most 
multitudinous  which  confound  our  attention  by  their  number, 


TRUE   COURAGE.  441 

01'  file  mosf  foi'tiiitoiis,  whii-li  entirely  baffle  onr  iiKjuiry  into 
tlieii'  eanses,  is  regnhited  by  this  intelli<;ent  purpose  of  (lod. 
Even  when  the  thousand  missiles  of  death,  invisible  to  mortal 
si<ihr.  and  sent  forth  aimless  by  those  who  launched  them,  shoot 
in  inexplicable  confusion  over  the  battle-fleld,  his  eye  gives  each 
one  an  aim  and  a  purpose,  according  to  the  plan  of  his  wisdom. 
Thus  teacheth  our  Saviour. 

Xow,  the  child  of  God  is  not  taught what  is  the  special 
will  ^f  God  as  to  himself;  he  has  no  revelation  as  to  the  secui'- 
ity  of  his  person.  Xor  does  he  presume  to  predict  what  par- 
ticular dispensation  God  will  grant  to  the  cause  in  which  he  is 
embarked.  But  he  knows  that,  be  it  what  it  may,  it  will  be  wise, 
and  right,  and  good.  Whether  the  arrows  of  death  shall  smite 
him  or  pass  him  by,  he  knows  no  more  than  the  unbelieving  sin- 
ner; but  lie  knows  that  neither  event  can  happen  him  without 
the  purpose  and  will  of  his  Heavenly  Father.  And  that  will, 
I)e  it  whichever  it  may,  is  guided  by  divine  wisdom  and  love. 
Should  the  event  prove  a  revelation  of  God's  decision,  and  this 
was  the  place,  and  this  the  hour,  for  life  to  end;  then  he  ac- 
cepts it  with  calm  submission;  for  are  not  the  time  and  place 
chosen  for  him  by  the  All- wise,  who  loves  him  from  eternity? 
Him  who  walks  in  the  true  fear  of  God,  God  loves.  He  hath 
adopted  him  as  his  son  forever,  through  his  faith  on  the  right- 
eousness of  the  Redeemer.  The  divine  anger  is  forever  extin- 
guished by  the  atonement  of  the  Lamb  of  God,  and  the  un- 
changeable love  of  God  is  conciliated  to  him  by  the  spotlessi 
righteousness  of  his  substitute.  The  preciousness  of  the  un- 
speakable gift  which  God  gave  for  his  redemption,  evcni  the  life 
of  the  Only-begotten,  and  the  earnest  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  be- 
stowed upon  liim  at  first  while  a  guilty  sinner,  are  the  argu- 
ments to  tliis  believer,  of  the  richness  and  strength  of  God's 
love  to  him.  He  knows  that  a  love  so  eternal,  so  free,  so  strong, 
in  the  breast  of  such  a  God  and  Saviour,  can  leave  nothing  un- 
bestowed,  which  divine  wisdom  perceives  to  be  f>nr  his  true 
good.  "He  that  spared  not  his  own  Son,  but  delivered  him  uj) 
for  us  all,  how  shall  he  not  with  him  also  freely  give  us  all 
things."  (Kom.  8:  32.)  And  this  love  has  enlisted  for  his  safe- 
guard, all  the  attributes  of  God,  which  are  the  security  of  his 
own  blessedness.  Why  dwelleth  the  divine  mind  in  ineffable, 
perpetual  peace?    Not  because  there  are  none  to  assail  it;  but 


442  TRUE   COURAGE. 

because  God  is  conscious  in  liiniself  of  intinire  ivsonrces,  for  de- 
fense and  vii-lory;  of  a  knowledge  wliicli  uj  cnnninj;-  can  de- 
ceivt';  of  a  })i)wer  which  no  combination  can  fatigue.  Wel'l, 
these  same  attributes,  whicli  support  the  stability  of  Jehovah's 
throne,  surround  the  weakest  child  of  G-od,  with  all  the  zeal  of 
redeeming  love.  "The  eternal  God  is  his  refuge;  and  under- 
neath liim  are  the  everlasting  arms.''  (Dent.  33:  27.)  Thei'e- 
f  )re  s:iirh  the  Apostle,  that  the  believer  hath  "his  heart  and 
mind  garri-;oned  by  rhe  peace  of  God  which  passeth  all  under- 
standing." (Phil.  4:  T.I  And  therefore  our  Saviour  saitli,  with 
a  literal  (-mphasis  of  which  our  faint  hearts  are  slow  to  take 
in  the  full  glory:  "Peace  I  leave  with  you;  my  peace  I  give 
unto  you."  (dolin  14:  27.)  In  i)roportion  as  God's  children  have 
faith  ro  embrace  the  love  of  <iL)d  to  them,  are  they  lifted  in 
spirit  to  his  very  throne,  and  can  look  down  upon  the  rage  of 
battle,  and  the  tumult  of  the  i)eople,  with  some  of  the  holy  dis- 
dain, the  ineffable  security,  which  constitute  the  blessedness  of 
(Jod.    "Their  life  is  hid  with  Christ  in  God." 

Ir  has  been  said  that  General  Jackson  was  a  fatalist,  by 
those  who  knew  not  whereof  they  affirmed.  He  was  a  strong 
believer  in  the  special  providence  of  God.  The  doctrine  of  a 
Fate  is,  that  all  events  are  fixed  by  an  immanent,  }>hysical  ne- 
cessity in  the  series  of  causes  and  effects  themsehes;  a  neces- 
sity as  blind  and  unreasoning  as  the  tendency  of  rhe  stone 
towards  the  earth,  when  unsu}t})orted  from  beneath;  a  neces 
sity  as  much  controlling  the  intelligence  and  will  (tf  God  as  of 
creatures;  a  necessity  which  admits  no  modification  of  i-esults 
through  the  agency  of  second  causes,  but  renders  them  inojtera- 
tive  and  non-essential,  save  as  the  mere,  passive  stepping  stones 
in  rhe  inevitable  progression.  The  doctrine  of  a  Providence 
teaches  that  the  regular,  natural  agency  of  second  causes  is 
sustained,  preserved,  and  regulated  by  the  power  and  intelli- 
gence of  God;  and  that  in  and  through  that  agency,  every  event 
is  directed  by  his  most  wise  and  holy  will,  according  to  his  plan, 
and  the  laws  of  nature  which  he  has  ordained.  Fatalism  tend^' 
to  apathy,  r o  absolute  inaction:  a  belief  in- the  })rovidence  of  the 
J^criptures,  ro  inrelligenr  and  hopeful  effort.  It  does  not  over- 
throw, but  rather  establish  the  agency  of  second  causes,  be- 
cause it  teaches  us  that  God's  purpose  to  effectuate  events  only 
through  them  (save  in  the  case  of  miracles)  is  as  steadfast,  as 


TRUE   COURAGE.  443 

his  pnri)oso  to  vixvvy  i»iit  liis  ekn-ual  idan.  Hence  it  produces  a 
conibiiiatiou  of  coiiraj^eoiis  serenity. — with  cheerful  (lili«j;ence 
in  the  use  of  means.  My  illustrious  leader  was  as  laborious  as 
he  was  trustful;  and  laborious  precisely  because  he  was  trust 
ful.  Every  thing  that  self-sacrificing  care,  and  prepai'ation,  and 
forecast,  and  toil,  could  do,  tj  prepare  and  to  earn  success,  hi; 
did.  .Vnd  therefore  it  was,  that  G^od,  without  whom  "the  watch- 
man waketli  but  in  vain,"  usually  bestowed  success.  So  like 
wise,  his  belief  in  the  superintendence  of  the  Almighty  was  a 
most  strong  and  living  conviction.  In  every  order,  or  dispatch, 
anmnincing  a  victary,  he  was  })rom])t  to  ascribe  tlie  result  to 
the  Lord  of  Hosts;  and  those  simple,  emphatic,  devout  ascrip- 
tions were  with  him  no  unmeaning  formalities.  In  the  very 
tlusli  of  triumph,  he  has  been  known  to  seize  the  junctui'e  for 
the  earnest  inculcation  of  this  trutli  upon  the  minds  of  his  sub- 
ordinates. On  the  momentous  morning  of  Friday,  June  27th, 
1802,  as  the  different  corps  of  the  patriot  army  were  moving  to 
their  respective  posts,  to  fill  their  parts  in  the  mighty  combina- 
tion of  their  chief,  after  Jackson  had  held  his  final  interview 
with  him,  and  resumed  his  march  for  his  position  at  ('old  Har 
1)our,  his  conrmand  was  misled,  by  a  misconception  of  his 
guides,  and  seemed  about  to  mingle  with,  and  confuse,  another 
part  of  our  forces.  ^lore  than  an  hour  :)f  seemingly  ]»recious 
time  was  expended  in  rectifying  this  mistake;  while  the  boom- 
ing of  cannon  in  the  front  told  us  that  the  struggle  had  begun, 
and  made  our  breasts  thrill  with  an  agony  of  suspenst\  lest  the 
irreparable  hour  should  be  lost  by  our  delay;  f;)r  we  had  still 
many  miles  to  march.  When  this  anxious  fear  was  suggested 
privately  to  Jackson,  he  answered,  with  a  calm  and  assured 
countenance:  "Xo;  let  us  trust  that  the  providence  of  our  God 
will  ;so  overrule  it,  that  no  mischief  shall  result."  And  verily; 
no  mischief  did  result.  Pijvidence  brought  us  precisely  into 
conjunction  with  the  bodies  with  which  we  were  to  co-operate; 
the  battle  was  joined  at  rlie  rigiit  juncturt^  and  by  the  lime  the 
stars  appeared,  the  right  wing  of  the  enemy,  with  which  he 
was  ap})ointed  to  deal,  was  hurled  in  utter  rout,  across  the  river, 
^lore  than  once,  when  sear  to  bring  one  of  his  )ld  fighting  bri- 
gades into  action,  I  had  noticed  him  sitting  motionless  ujion  his 
horse  with  his  right  hand  uplifted,  while  the  war  worn  column 
poured  in  stern  silence  close  by  his  side.    At  first  it  did  not  ap- 


444  TKUE   COURAGE 

ponr  whether  it  was  mere  abstraction  of  t]i(>ii,u]it.  or  a  posture 
to  relieve  his  fatioue.  But  at  Port  Kepublic,  I  saw  it  again; 
and  watchinji  liim  more  narrowl3-,  was  convinced  bj  his  closed 
I'vcs  and  moving  lips,  that  he  was  wrestling  in  silent  prayer.  I 
thought  that  I  could  surmise  what  was  then  passing  through 
his  fervent  soul;  the  sovereignty-  of  that  Providence  which 
worketh  all  things  after  the  counsel  of  his  own  will,  and  giveth 
the  battle  not  to  the  strong,  nor  the  race  to  the  swift:  his  own 
fearful  responsibility,  and  need  of  that  counsel  and  sound  wis 
dom,  which  God  alone  can  give;  the  crisis  of  his  'beloved  coun- 
try, and  the  balance  trembling  between  defeat  and  victory; 
the  precious  lives  of  his  veteram?,  which  the  inexorable  neces- 
sities of  war  compelled  him  to  jeopardize;  the  immortal  souls 
passing  to  their  account,  perhaps  unprepared;  the  widowhood 
and  or-phanage  which  might  result  from  the  orders  he  had  just 
been  compelled  to  issue.  And  as  his  beloved  men  swept  by  him 
ro  the  front,  into  the  storm  of  shot,  doubtless  his  great  heart, 
as  tender  as  it  was  resolute,  yearned  over  them  in  unutterable 
longings  and  intercessions,  that  "the  Almighty  would  cover 
them  with  his  feathers,  and  that  his  truth  might  be  their  shield 
and  buckler."  Surely  the  moral  grandeur  of  this  scene  was  akin 
to  that,  when  Moses  stood  upon  the  Mount  of  God,  and  lifted 
up  his  hands,  while  Israel  prevailed  against  Amalek!  And  what 
soldier  would  not  desire  to  have  the  .shield  of  such  prayers,  un- 
der which  to  fight?  Were  they  not  a  more  powerful  element 
of  success  than  the  artillery,  or  the  bayonets  of  the  Stonewall 
Brigade? 

III.  The  true  fear  of  God  ensures  the  safety  of  the  im*- 
mortal  soul.  I'nited  to  Christ  by  faith,  adopted  into  the  un- 
changing favor  of  God,  and  heir  of  an  inheritance  in  the  skies 
which  is  as  secure  as  the  throne  of  God,  the  believing  soul,  is 
lifted  above  the  i-each  of  bodily  dangers.  But  the  soul  is  the 
true  man,  the  true  self,  the  part  which  alone  feels  or  knows, 
desires  or  fears,  sorrows  or  rejoices,  and  which  lives  forever. 
It  is  its  fate  which  is  irrevocable.  If  it  be  lost,  all  is  lost;  and 
finally  lost;  if  it  be  secure,  all  other  losses  are  secondary,  yea, 
in  comparison,  trivial.  To  the  child  of  God,  the  rage  of  ene- 
mies, mortal  weapons,  and  pestilence  are  impotent.  True,  he 
has  no  assurance  that  they  may  not  reach  his  (body,  but  they 
reach  his  body  only,  and, 


TRUJ3   COtTRAGE.  445 

''If  the  plague  come  nigh, 
And  sweep  the  wicked  down  to  hell, 

T'will  raise  the  saints  on  high." 
This  is  our  Saviour's  argument,  "Be  not  afraid  of  Ihem 
that  kill  the  bod}-;  and  after  that  have  no  more  that  they  can 
do"  Pagan  fable  perhaps  intended  to  foreshadow  this  gl'orious 
truth,  when  it  deserdbed  its  hero  with  a  body  made  invuhierable 
by  its  bath  in  tlie  divine  river,  and  therefore  insensible  to  fear, 
and  indifferent  to  the  weapons  of  death.  But  the  spiritual  real- 
ity of  the  allegory  is  found  only  in  the  Christian,  who  has  wash- 
ed his  soul  from  the  stain  'of  sin  (which  alone  causes  its  death), 
in  the  Redeemer's  blood.  He  is  the  invulnerable  man.  "The 
arrow  cannot  make  him  fiee;  darts  are  counted  as  stubble;  he 
laugheth  at  the  shaking  of  a  spear."  He  shares,  indeed  the 
natural  affections  and  instincts  which  make  life  sweet  to  every 
man,  and  bodily  pain  and  death  formidable.  But  these  emo- 
tions of  his  sensuous  being  are  counteracted  by  his  faith,  which 
gives  to  hisis'oul  a  substantial,  inward  sense  of  heavenly  life,  as 
more  real  and  satisfying  than  the  carnal.  The  clearer  the  faith 
of  the  Christian,  the  more  complete  is  this  victory  over  natural 
fears.  To  the  mere  unbeliever,  this  mortal  life  is  his  all-in-all, 
Ibodily  death  is  utter  extinction,  pain  is  the  master  evil,  and 
the  grave  is  covered  by  a  horror  of  great  darkness  unrelieved 
by  one  ray  of  hope  or  light.  And  Christians  of  a  weaker  type, 
in  their  weaker  moments,  cannot  shake  off  the  shuddering  of 
nature  in  the  presence  of  these,  the  supreme  evils  of  the  na- 
tural man.  But  as  faith  brightens,  that  tremor  is  quieted;  the 
more  substantial  the  grasp  of  faith  on  eternal  realities,  the 
more  does  the  giant  death  dwindle  in  his  proportions,  the  less 
niiortal  does  his  sword  appear,  the  narrower  and  more  trivial 
seems  the  gap  which  he  makes  between  this  life  and  the  higher; 
because  that  'better  life  is  brought  nearer  to  the  apprehension  of 
the  soul.  Does  the  eagle  lament  to  see  the  wolf  ravage  its  de- 
serted nest,  as  it  betakes  itself  to  its  destined  skies,  and  nerves 
its  young  pinions  and  fires  its  eyes  in  the  beam  of  the  king  of 
day?  The  believer  knows  also,  that  should  his  body  be  smit- 
ten into  the  grave,  the  resurrection  day  will  repair  all  I  lie 
ravages  of  the  sword,  and  restore  the  poor  tenement  to  his  oc- 
cupany,  "fashioned  like  unto  Chi-ist's  glorious  body."  He  can 
ado[»t  the  boast  of  inspiration  :  "God  is  our  refuge  and  strength; 


446  TteTJE   COURAGE 

a  very  present  help  in  trouble.  Therefore  will  not  we  fear 
though  the  earth  be  removed,  and  though  the  mountains  be  car- 
ried into  the  midst  of  the  sea."  (Ps.  40:  1,  2.)  Amidst  the 
storm  of  barrle.  and  even  the  wreck  of  defeat,  liis  steadfast 
heart  knows  no  fear. 

But  that  the  enemy  of  God  should  have  courage  in  bat/ 
tie,  is  incomprehensible  to  rae.  It  can  only  be  explain(Hl  by 
thoughtlessness.  When  the  danger  whirli  assails  the  body 
reaches  the  soul  also,  when  the  weapon  that  lays  the  body  in 
the  dust,  will  plunge  the  soul  into  everlasting  and  int3lerable 
torments,  by  what  philosophy  can  a  reasoning  being  brace 
himself  to  meet  it?  He  who  has  not  Ood  for  his  friend,  has  no 
right  to  be  brave.  But  we  should  be  far  from  inferring  thence, 
that  the  citizen  who  is  conscious  3f  his  enmity  to  (lod.  is  there- 
fore justified  in  shunning  the  ex]iosure  to  this  risk,  at  the  ex- 
pense of  duty  and  honor.  This  would  be  but  to  add  sin  to  sin. 
and  folly  to  folly.  If  safety  is  not  found  in  the  p;irh  of  duty, 
still  nure  surely  it  will  not  be  found,  when  out  of  it.  He  is  in 
the  greatest  danger,  who  is  disobeying  God;  and  infinite  wis- 
dom and  power  can  never  be  at  a  loss  for  means  to  strike  their 
enemy,  however  far  removed  wounds  and  weapons  of  war  may 
be.  To  refuse  a  recognized  duty  is  the  surest  way  to  alienate 
the  mercy  of  (iod.  and  t3  grieve  that  Holy  Ghost,  on  whom  we 
depend  for  faith  and  repentance.  The  only  safe  or  rational 
course  therefore,  for  the  ungodly  soldier,  is  to  make  his  peace 
with  God  at  once;  and  thus  advance  with  well-grounded  confi- 
dence in  the  path  of  liis  duty,  and  of  all  men.  the  s  )ldier  has 
the  strongest  reasons  to  become  a  Christian! 

Such  was  the  foundation  of  the  courage  of  Jackson.  He 
walked  with  God.  in  conscions  integrity;  and  he  embraced  with 
all  his  heart  "the  righteousness  of  God  which  is  by  the  faith 
if  Jesus  Christ."  His  soul.  I  believe,  dwelt  habitually  in  the 
full  assurance  that  God  was  his  God.  and  his  portion  forever. 
His  manly  and  vigorous  faith  brought  heaven  so  near,  that 
death  had  slight  terrors  for  him.  While  it  would  be  unjust  to 
charge  him  with  rashness  in  exposure  to  danger,  yet  whenever 
his  sense  of  duty  prompted  it.  he  seemed  to  risk  his  person  with 
an  absolute  indifference  to  fear.  The  sense  of  his  responsibili- 
ties to  his  country,  and  the  heat  of  his  mighty  spirit  in  the 
crisis  of  battle,  might  sometimes  agitate  him  vehemently;  but 


TRUE   COURAGE.  44'^ 

never  was  the  most  inmiinent  personal  peril  seen  to  disturb 
his  equanimity  for  one  moment.  Ir  is  a  striking  trait  of  rhe  im- 
pression which  he  has  made  upon  his  countrymen,  that  while 
no  man  could  possibly  ^be  farther  from  boasting,  it  always  be- 
came the  first  article  of  the  belief  of  those  subject  to  his  com- 
mand, that  he  was.  of  course,  a  man  of  perfect  courage. 

But  courage  alone  does  not  explain  the  position  which  he 
held  in  the  hearts  of  his  people.  In  this  land  of  heroic  mem- 
ories and  brave  men,  others  besides  Jackson  have  displayed 
true  courage,  (rod  did  nor  endow  liim  with  several  of  those 
native  gifts  which  are  supposed  to  allure  the  idolatry  of  man- 
kind towards  their  heroes.  He  affected  no  kingly  mien  nor 
martial  pomp;  but  always  bore  himself  witli  the  modest  pro- 
priety of  the  Christian.  Xor  did  he  ever  study  ar  practice  those 
arts,  by  which  a  Bonaparte  or  an  Alexander  kindled  the  enthu 
siasm  of  their  followers.  The  only  manifestation  which  he  ever 
made  of  himself  was  in  the  simple  and  diligent  performance  of 
the  duties  of  his  office.  His  part  on  the  battle-field  was  usually 
rather  suggestive  of  the  zeal  and  industry  of  the  faithful  ser- 
vant, than  of  the  contagious  exaltation  of  a  master-spirit.  Na- 
ture had  not  given  to  him  even  the  corporeal  gift  of  the  trum- 
pet tones,  with  which  other  leaders  are  said  to  have  roused  the 
divine  phrensy  in  their  followers.  It  was  only  at  times  that 
his  modest  and  feeble  voice  was  lifted  up  to  his  hosts;  and 
then,  as  he  shouted  his  favorite  call:  'Tress  forward,"  the 
fiery  energy  of  his  will,  thrilled  through  his  rapid  utterance, 
rather  like  the  deadly  clang  of  the  rifie,  than  the  sonorous  peal 
of  the  clarion.  His  was  a  master-spirit;  but  it  was  too  simply 
grand  to  study  dramatic  sensations.  It  impressed  its  might 
upon  the  .souls  of  his  countrymen,  not  through  deportment,  but 
through  deeds.  Its  discourses  were  toilsome  marches  and  bat- 
tles joined,  its  perorations  were  the  thunder-claps  of  defeat 
hurled  upon  the  enemies  of  his  country.  It  revealed  itself  to  us 
only  through  the  purity  and  force  of  his  action;  and  therefore 
the  intensity  of  the  effect  he  has  produced. 

This  may  help  to  explain  the  enigma  of  his  reimtation. 
How  is  it  that  this  man.  of  all  others  least  accustomed  to  exer- 
cise his  own  fancy,  or  addi-ess  that  of  others,  has  stimulated  the 
imagination,  not  only  of  his  countrymen,  but  of  the  civilized 
world,  above  all  the  sons  of  genius  among  us?     Hjw  has  he. 


448  TRtJE   COtJKAGE. 

the  most  unromantic  of  great  men,  become  the  hero  of  a  liAnng 
romance,  the  ideal  of  an  inflamed  fancy  in  every  mind,  even 
before  his  life  had  passed  into  history!    How  did  that  calm  eye 
kindle  the  fire  of  so  passionate  a  love  and  admiration  in  lln- 
heart  of  his  people?     He  was  brave,  bnt  not  the  only  brave. 
He  revealed  transcendant  military  talent;  bnt  the  diadem  of 
his  country  now  glows  with  a  galaxy  of  such  talent.     He  was 
successful;  but  we  have  more  than  one  captain,  whose  banner 
never  trailed  before  an  enemy.    I  will  tell  you  the  solution,    ll 
was,  chiefly,  the  singleness,  purity,  and  elevation  of  his  alms. 
Every  one  who  observed  him  was  as  thoroughly  convinced  of 
his  unselfish  devotion  to  duty  as  of  his  courage;  as  certain  that 
no  thought  of  personal  advancement,  of  ambition  or  applause, 
ever  for  one  instant  divided  the  homage  of  his  heart  witli  his 
great  cause,  and  that  ''all  the  ends  he  aimed  at  were  his  coun- 
try's, his  Grod's,  and  truth's,"  as  that  he  w'as  brave.    The  love 
of  his  countrymen  is  the  spontaneous  testimony  of  the  common 
conscience,  to  the  beaut}'  of  holiness.     It  is  the  confession  of 
our  nature  that  the  virtue  of  the  Sacred  Scriptures,  which  is  a 
virtue  purer  and  loftier  than  that  of  philosophy,  is  the  true 
greatness,  grandei-  than  knowledge,  talent,  courage,  or  success. 
Here,  then,  as  I  believe,  is  God's  chief  lesson  in  his  life  and 
death  (and  the  belief  encourages  auspicious  hopes  concerning 
God's  designs  towards  us.)    He  would  teach  us  the  beauty  and 
power  of  pure  Christianity,  as  an  element  of  our  social  life,  of 
our  national  career.    Therefore  he  took  an  exemplar  of  Chris- 
tian sincerity,  as  near  perfection  as  the  infirmities  of  our  na- 
ture would  permit,  formed  and  trained  in  an  honorable  retire- 
ment; he  set  it  in  the  furnace  of  trial,  at  an  hour  when  great 
events  and  dangers  had  awakened  the  popular  heart  to  most 
intense  action;  he  illustrated  it  with  that  species  of  distimc- 
tion  which  above  all  others,  attracts  the  popular  gaze,  military 
glorj^;  and  held  it  uj)  to  the  admiring  inspection  of  a  countr}' 
grateful  for  the  deliverances  it  had  wrought  for  us.     Thus  he 
has  taught  us,  how  good  a  thing  his  fear  is.    He  has  made  all 
men  see  and  acknowledge  that,  in  this  man,  his  Christianity  was 
the  fountain  head  of  the  virtues  and  talents,  which  they  so 
rapturously  applauded;  that  it  was  the  fear  of  God  which  made 
him  so  fearless  of  all  else;  that  it  was  the  love  of  God  wliicli 
animated  his  energies;  that  it  was  the  singleness  of  his  aim^s 


Memoirs  of  fbancis  s.  Sampson,  d.  d.  449 

which  caused  his  wliah^  body  to  be  so  full  of  light,  that  the 
unerriug  decisions  of  his  judgment,  suggested  to  the  unrhink- 
ing,  tlie  belief  in  his  actual  inspiration;  and  that  the  lofty  cliiv- 
ahy  of  his  nature  was  but  the  reflex  of  the  Spirit  of  Christ.  Do 
not  even  the  profane  admit  this  explanation  of  his  cliaracter? 
Here  then,  is  God's  lesson,  in  this  life,  to  these  Confederate 
States:  "It  is  righteousness  that  exalteth."  Hear  it  ye  young 
men,  ye  soldiers,  ye  magistrates,  ye  law-givers;  that  'iie  that 
exaltcth  himself  shall  be  abased;  but  he  tliat  humbleth  him- 
self shall  be  exalted.'' 

But  what  would  he  teach  us  by  his  death,  to  our  view  so 
untimely*^  To  this  question,  human  reason  can  only  answer, 
that  God's  judgments  are  far  above  us,  and  past  our  finding  out. 

One  lovely  Sabbath,  riding  alone  with  me  to  a  religious 
service  in  a  camp,  General  Jacksan  was  talking  of  the  general 
prospects  of  the  war,  hopefully,  as  he  ever  did.  But  at  the  close, 
he  assumed  an  air  of  intense  seriousness,  and  said:  "I  do  not 
mean  to  convey  the  impression  that  I  have  not  as  much  to  live 
for  as  any  man,  and  that  life  is  not  as  sweet.  But  I  do  not  de- 
s'ire  t3  survive  the  independence  of  my  country."  Can  this 
death  be  the  answer  to  that  wish".'  Can  the  solution  be,  that 
having  tried  us.  and  found  us  unworthy  of  such  a  deliverer, 
God  ha.s  hid  liis  favorite  in  tlie  grave,  in  the  brightness  of  his 
hopes,  and  before  his  blooming  honors  received  any  blight  from 
disaster,  from  the  calamities  which  aur  sins  are  about  to  bring 
upon  us'.'  ^ay;  we  will  not  believe  that  the  legacy  of  Jack- 
son's prayers  was  all  expended  by  us,  when  he  died;  they  wi>ll 
yet  avail  for  us  all  the  more,  that  they  are  now  sealed  by  his 
blood.  The  deliverance  of  the  Jews  did  not  end  with  the  un- 
timely end  of  Judas  Maccabee.  The  death  of  William  of  Orange 
was  not  the  death  of  the  Dutch  Republic.  The  lamented  fall 
:)f  John  Hampden  was  not  the  fall  of  the  liberties  of  England. 
And.  if  we  may  reverently  associate  another  instance  with 
these,  the  crucifixion  of  Jesus  of  Nazareth,  was,  contrary'  to 
the  fears  of  his  disciples,  but  the  beginning  of  the  sect  of  the 
Xazarenes.  So,  let  us  hope,  the  tree  of  our  liberties  will  flourish 
but  the  more  for  the  precious  blood  by  which  it  is  watered. 

May  it  not  be,  that  God,  after  enabling  him  to  render  all 
the  service  which  was  essential  to  our  deliverance,  and  showing 
us  in  him,  the  brightest  example  of  the  glory  of  Christianity, 


450  tRtE   COURAGE. 

■has  bid  him  enter  iuto  the  joy  of  his  Lord,  at  this  juncture,  in 
order  to  warn  us  against  :)ur  incipient  idohitry,  and  make  us 
say:  "It  is  better  to  trust  in  the  Lord,  than  to  put  coutideiice 
in  princes?"  No  man  would  more  strongly  deprecate  this  idol- 
atry of  human  instruments,  than  Jackson,  and  never  so  strong- 
ly, as  when  addressed  to  himself.  None  can  declare  more  em- 
phatically than  would  he,  if  he  spoke  to  us  from  the  skies,  that 
while  man  is  mortal,  the  cause  is  immortal.  Away  then,  with 
unmanly  discouragements,  God  lives,  though  our  hero  is  dead. 

That  he  should  have  toiled  so  hard  for  the  independence  of 
his  country,  and  so  ardently  desired  it;  and  tlien  at  last,  be  for- 
bidden to  hail  the  day  of  our  final  deliverance,  or  to  receive  the 
grateful  honors  which  his  fellow-citizens  were  preparing  for 
liim;  this  has  saddened  every  heart  with  a  pang  both  tender 
and  pungent.  The  medicine  to  this  pain,  my  'brethren,  is  to  re- 
member, that  he  has  entered  into  a  triumph  and  i)eace,  so  much 
more  glorious  than  that  which  he  bled  to  achieve  for  his  coun- 
try. It  would  have  been  sweet  to  us,  to  hail  him  returning  from 
his  last  victory  to  a  delivered  and  enfranchised  country;  sweet 
to  see  and  sympathize  with  the  joy  with  which  he  hung  up  his 
sword,  and  psiid  the  sacrifices  of  thanksgiving  in  the  courts  of 
the  Lord's  house;  sweet  to  witness,  with  reverent  respect,  the 
domestic  bliss  of  the  home  for  which  he  so  much  sighed,  solac- 
ing him  for  his  long  fatigues.  That  happiness  we  have  lost; 
bu  t/i£  has  lost  nothing.  He  has  laid  down  his  sword  at  the 
footstool  of  his  Father  God;  he  now  sings  his  thanksgiving  song 
in  a  nobler  sanctuary  than  the  earthly  one  he  loved  so  much; 
he  "bathes  his  weary  soul  in  seas  of  heavenly  rest." 

We  who  loved  him,  while  we  bewail  our  own  loss,  should 
not  forget  the  circumstances  which  alleviate  the  grief  of  his 
death.  Surely,  it  was  no  ill-chosen  time  for  God  to  call  him  io 
his  rest,  when  his  powers  were  in  their  undimmed  prime,  and 
his  military  glory  at  its  zenith;  when  his  greatest  victory  had 
just  been  won;  and  the  last  sounds  of  earth  which  reached  him 
were  the  thanksgivings  and  blessings  of  a  nation  in  raptures  for 
his  achievements;  in  tears  for  his  sufferings.  I  love  to  remem- 
ber, too,  that  his  martyr-life  had  just  been  gladdened  by  the 
gratification  of  tliose  affections  which  were  in  him  so  sweet  and 
strong,  and  wliich  yet,  he  sacrificed,  so  patiently,  for  his  coun- 
try. 


TRUE   COURAGE.  461 

Still  more  do  we  tliauk  God  that  it  was  practicable,  as  it 
might  not  have  been  at  an  earlier,  or  a  later  period,  for  him 
to  enjoy  those  ministrations  of  love,  in  his  last  days,  which 
were  the  dearest  solace  of  his  sufferings.  Into  the  sacredness 
of  those  last  communings,  and  of  the  grief  which  survives  them 
in  his  widowed  home,  we  may  not  allow  even  our  thoughts  to 
intrude.  And  yet,  may  not  a  mourning  nation  venture  to  utter 
their  blessing  on  the  mourning  heart  which  blessed  him  w^th 
its  love;  and  to  pray,  that  the  breast  which  so  magnanimously 
calmed  its  tumult,  to  make  a  quiet  pillow  for  the  dying  head 
of  their  hero,  may  be  visited  'by  Grod,  with  the  most  healing 
balm  of  heavenly  consolation?  Will  not  all  the  people  say: 
amen? 

Xor  will  they  forget  the  tender  tiower,  sole  off-shoot  of  the 
parent  stock,  born  to  bloom  amidst  the  wintry  storms  of  war, 
which  he  would  fain  have  forbidden  the  summer  breeze  to  visit 
too  roughly.  The  giant  tree  which  would  have  shielded  it  with 
pride  so  loving,  lies  prone  'before  the  blast.  But  His  God  will 
be  its  God;  and  as  long  as  the  most  rugged  breast  of  his  hardy 
comrades  is  warm,  it  will  not  lack  for  a  parent's  tenderness. 

And  now,  with  one  more  lesson,  I  leave  you  to  the  teach- 
ings of  the  mighty  dead.  If  there  was  one  trait  which  was 
eminent  in  him  above  the  rest,  it  was  determination.  This  was 
the  power,  before  whose  steady  and  ardent  heat  obstacles  melt- 
ed away.  This  was  the  force,  which  caused  his  battalions  to 
breast  the  onset  of  the  enemy  like  ramparts  of  stone,  or  else 
launched  them  irresistibly  upon  their  shivered  lines.  It  was  his 
unconquerable  will,  and  purpose  never  to  submit  or  yield.  Ev- 
ery one  who  was  near  him  imbibed  something  of  this  spirit, 
for  they  saw  that  in  him  the  acceptance  of  defeat  was  an  im- 
possibility. To  that  conclusion  no  earthly  power  could  bend 
his  iron  will.  Let  this  example  commend  to  us  the  same  stead- 
fast temper.  In  his  fall  and  that  of  the  noble  army  of  martyrs, 
every  generous  soul  sliould  read  a  new  argument  for  defending 
the  cause  for  wliicli  lie  died,  with  invincible  tenacity.  Surely 
their  very  blood  might  cry  out  against  us  from  the  ground,  if 
we  permitted  the  soil,  whicli  drank  the  precious  libation  to  be 
polluted  with  the  despot's  foot!  Shall  it  ever  be,  that  our  dis- 
couragement or  cowardice  shall  make  the  sacrifice  vain?  If  we 
cx>iisent  to  this,  then  was  it  not  treacherous  in  us  to  invite  it? 


452  TRUE   COURAGE. 

We  should  rather  liave  warned  them  to  restrain  their  generos- 
ity, to  save  the  lives  they  were  so  ready  to  lay  upau  their  coun- 
try's altar,  as  too  precious  to  be  wasted  for  a  land  occupied  by 
predestined  slaves  and  cowards,  and  to  carry  their  patriotism 
and  their  gifts  to  some  more  propitious  clime,  and  some  wor- 
thier companionship. 

Such  are  the  thoughts  which  should  inspire  the  heart  of 
every  one  who  stands  beside  tlie  grave  of  Jackson.  Around  that 
green  and  swelling  hill  stands  the  circle  of  solemn  mountain 
peaks  keeping  everlasting  watch  over  the  home  which  he  loved 
and  the  tomb  where  his  ashes  sleep,  majestic  when  the  summer 
sunset  bathes  them  in  azure  and  gold,  but  only  more  grandly 
steadfast,  when  they  are  black  with  storms  and  winter.  So.  let 
us  resolve,  we  will  guard  the  honor  and  the  rights  for  which  he 
died,  in  the  hour  of  triumph,  and  more  immoveably  in  the  hour 
of  disaster. 


MEMORIAL  OF  LIEUTENANT  COLONEL   |OHN 

T.  THORNTON,  OF  THE  THIRD  \TRGL\LA 

CAVALRY,  C.  S.  A. 


Amidst  tlie  great  company  of  Christian  heroes  whom  Vir- 
••inia  has  saeriticed  for  the  independence  of  the  Confederate 
States,  few  names,  next  to  her  Jackson's,  shine  more  brightly 
than  that  of  Lieut.  Col.  John  T.  Thornton,  of  Prince  Edward, 
Vi\.  The  son  of  Mr.  Wm.  Thornton,  of  Cumberland  county,  he 
inherited  from  his  father  an  honorable  name,  a  vigorous  under- 
standing, and  an  ample  estate.  After  the  most  careful  literary 
training,  he  adojjted  the  profession  of  law,  and  chose  the  town 
of  FarmA'ille  for  his  residence.  Fram  the  very  beginning,  his 
high  honor  and  qualifications  secured  him  the  respect  of  his 
fellow-cirizens;  and  he  stepped  into  a  busy  practice,  in  which 
he  was  fast  winning  the  highest  grade  of  distinction.  Here  the 
present  war  found  him,  although  still  a  young  man,  diligently 
engaged  in  his  profession,  the  pride,  the  trusted  counsellor,  and 
chosen  servant,  of  his  county,  and  surrounded  with  all  the  do- 
mestic bliss  which  an  elegant  home,  and  an  engaging  family 
cimld  confer.  Tliis  happiness  he  was  peculiarly  fitted  to  enjoy. 
l>ut  although  a  liberal  supporter,  and  habitual  attendant,  of 
the  offices  of  religion,  he  was  not  yet  a  Christian:  this  crown 
was  lacking  to  his  character. 

Mr.  Thornton  was  in  temper  a  conservative;  and  accord- 
ingly, in  politics  he  was  no  extremist.  Of  the  convention  which 
dissolved  the  connection  of  Virginia  with  the  Federal  Union, 
he  was  chosen  a  member.  There,  and  in  tlie  primary  meetings 
of  the  peoi)le,  his  cliaste  and  masculine  eloquence  was  frequent- 
ly heard,  advocating,  on  the  one  hand,  all  the  conciliation  and 
forbearance  towards  our  assailants  consistent  with  honor  and 
righteousness,  and  on  the  other,  the  most  detei'uiined  assertion 
of  our  essential  rights.    After  witnessing  the  scornful  rejection 

453 


454         A  MEMORIAL  OF  LIEUT.  COL.  JOHN  T.  THORNTON. 

of  all  the  overtures  our  uiagnanimous  Commonwealth  made 
for  the  sake  of  peace,  he  heartily  concurred  in  the  act  which 
made  her  independent  of  the  betraver.s  of  the  Constitution;  and 
when  the  convention  adjourned,  he  immediately  returned  home, 
and  accepted  the  command  of  a  company  of  horse,  composed  of 
his  friends  and  neijihhors.  This  troop  was  embodied  in  the  3rd 
Virginia  Cavalry.  Although  at  first  a  novice  in  militaiy  af- 
fairs, he  rapidly  became  a  w^ell-instructed  and  efficient  officer, 
while  his  courage,  fortitude,  and  impartiality,  made  him  the 
idol  of  his  men.  As  the  first  year  of  the  war  appraached  its 
end,  all  the  volunteer  regiments  were  reorganized;  when  he 
was  chosen  Lieutenant  Colonel.  Concerning  this  i)romotion 
he  thus  writes  to  his  wife: 

"In  the  reorganization  of  tliis  regiment,  I  was  chosen  Lieu- 
tenant Colonel.  This  promotion  was  unexpected;  but  I  shall 
accept  it,  and  endeavor  with  all  my  powers  to  discharge  its 
duties.  I  pray  God  to  give  me  the  requisite  skill  and  courage 
for  this  i)Osition,  that  T  may  so  bear  myself  in  it.  as  to  do  good 
service  to  my  country." 

This  place  he  filled  with  eminent  success,  and  like  a  g03d 
soldier,  ''bore  the  heat  and  burden  of  the  day."  His  former  as- 
sociates remarked  with  wonder,  that  he  seemed  formed  by  na^ 
ture  for  a  soldier;  that  although  reared  in  elegance,  and  devoted 
hitherto  almost  exclusively  to  literary  ])ursuits,  he  seemed  to 
sleep  anywhere,  eat  anything,  and  to  endure  any  hardship,  with- 
out inconvenience.  He  a])])eared  thus,  only  because  his  manly 
spirit  refused  to  complain  of  his  trials;  while  in  truth,  both 
body  and  mind  were  suffering  acutely  under  them.  Througli- 
out  the  bloody  campaign  of  1802.  he  was  always  at  his  post.  In 
the  expedition  into  Maryland,  he  was  in  command  of  the  3rd 
Regiment,  then  a  part  of  General  Fitzhugli  Lee's  Cavalry  Bri- 
gade. In  the  comibat  of  Boonsboro'.  when  this  brigade  covered 
the  retreat  of  the  Confederate  Army  against  the  whole  host  of 
McClellan,  the  light  of  that  clear  autumn  sun  was  turned  into 
darkness  by  the  smoke  and  battle  dust.  Down  that  famed 
causeway,  as  terrible  as  the  jaws  of  hell,  swept  by  cannon  shot 
and  shells,  and  by  clouds  of  sharpshooters  on  the  frant,  and 
right,  and  left,  Colonel  Thornton  led  his  regiment  again  and 
again,  in  impetuous  charges;  until  the  purpose  of  the  comman- 
der-in-chief was  secured,  in  bringing  off  his  artillery  and  trains. 


A  MEMORIAL  OF  LIEUT.   COL.  JOHN  T    THORNTON.         455 

In  this  fiery  ordeal,  tliougli  his  horse  was  killed  under  him,  he 
escaped  unscathed.  But  on  the  bloodj-  morning  of  Sharps^burg, 
as  he  was  bringing  his  regiment  into  position  to  protect  the  left 
of  the  army,  his  punctilious  obedience  to  orders  led  him  to  ex- 
l)Ose  himself  during  a  few  minutes'  halt,  to  a  battery  of  the 
enemy;  and  almost  the  first  shot  which  opened  the  fearful 
drama  of  the  day,  gave  him  a  fatal  wound.  It  exploded  beside 
him,  and  one  fragment  tore  his  saddle  to  pieces,  inflicting  an 
irreparable  shock  on  his  body,  while  another  crushed  his  arm 
almost  from  the  hand  to  the  shoulder.  His  frightened  horse 
was  arrested  b}'  his  men,  he  sunk  fainting  into  their  arms,  and 
was  carried  to  a  little  farm  house  near  the  field.  There,  the 
surgeons  endeavored  ta  save  his  life  by  amputating  his  man- 
gled limb;  but  in  vain.  After  lingering  for  twelve  hours  insen- 
sible or  delirious,  he  fell  asleep. 

His  friends  were  aware  that  since  he  entered  the  service, 
his  religious  character  had  undergone  a  revolution.  God, 
"whose  thoughts  are  not  as  our  thoughts,"  had  employed  the 
solemnities  of  this  dreadful  war,  together  with  the  death  of  two 
beloved  brothers,  to  mature  the  convictions,  which  the  sanc- 
tuary, and  the  pure  Christian  example  that  blessed  his  home, 
had  implanted,  but  could  not  perfect.  Numerous  passages  from 
his  letters  illustrate  the  birtli  and  growth  of  his  remarkable 
religious  character. 

Among  the  sad  remains  which  were  brought  along  with  his 
corpse,  to  his  widow,  were  a  few  of  his  prayers,  written  a'midst 
the  confusion  of  the  bivouac,  on  bits  of  paper,  and  folded  into 
his  pocket-Bible.  These  precious  relics  of  his  piety  I  am  per- 
mitted to  copy;  and  the  i)urpose  of  this  introductory  narrative 
is  to  present  them  to  his  jiersnnal  friends,  to  his  comrades  in 
arms,  and  to  the  soldiers  of  our  ]>atriotic  and  suffering  army, 
as  his  own  solemn  testimony  to  the  religion  of  the  Lord  Jesus 
Christ.  In  them,  "he  being  dead,  yet  speaketh."  The  object 
is  to  permit  him  to  speak  chiefly  for  himself:  no  attempt  is  made 
to  do  more  than  place  the  necessary  links  of  connection  be- 
tween the  pieces  which  unfold  his  religious  emotions.  This 
brief  partraiture  cannot  be  made  without  a  ])artial  disclosure 
of  those  dearer  affections,  which  Colonel  Thornton's  sensitive 
honor  was  wont  to  cover  jealousl\'  in  the  sanctity,  of  his  owti 
heart  and  home.    But  no  brave  man  will  be  capable  of  reading 


4.")6         A  MEMORIAL  OF  LIEUT.  COL.  JOnX  T.  TnORXTON". 

it  with  auy  other  than  eniotious  of  reverent  sympathy.  Xor 
will  any  such  fail  to  recognize,  in  the  spirit  which  has  yielded 
these  sacred  mementoes  to  the  inspection  of  his  brothers-in- 
arms, the  same  self-consecration,  and  preference  of  duty  over 
feelin.u.  w  liirli  iii;i:l('  liini  the  Thristiau  hero.  It  has  only  been 
done  because  of  the  belief,  that,  could  the  soul  of  the  departed 
speak  from  that  blest  abode,  where  it  is  now.  as  we  humbly 
trust,  solaced  for  its  pains,  it  would  proujunce  the  commending 
of  Christ  to  its  fellows  a  dearer  object  than  any  earthly  tie. 

In  the  opinion  of  all  who  have  been  permitted  to  read  them, 
these  prayers  are  peculiarly  excellent.  They  show  a  maturity 
of  Christian  feelings,  a  propriety  in  the  selection  jf  tojjics  and 
hmguage,  a  tenderness,  fervency,  and  humility,  remarkable  in 
one  who  was  so  young  in  the  faith.  It  is  hoped  that  they  will 
furnish  to  many  a  young  disciple  a  pattern  for  his  breathings 
after  the  Saviour,  and  to  many  a  Christian  husband  and  father 
in  the  army,  a  vehicle  for  transmitting  to  heaven  his  yearnings 
for  "loved  9nes  at  home." 

The  reader's  attention  is  especially  called  to  the  powerful 
awakening  of  the  sense  of  parental  responsibility  in  Colonel 
Thornton's  bosom,  as  soon  as  he  became  a  Christian.  His  most 
cherished  desire  f  jr  life.  was.  that  he  might  return  and  aid  his 
beloved  wife  in  guiding  the  steps  of  his  sons  heavenward.  It 
is  noteworthy  also,  how  frequently  his  servants  are  included  in 
these  Christian  aftections.  He  rarely  forgets  to  send  them  his 
kindly  salutations.  He  feels  his  obligations,  as  their  master,  to 
their  souls,  and  prays  for  their  temporal  and  eternal  welfare. 
C3lonel  Thornton,  a  large  slaveholder,  the  son  of  a  large  plan- 
ter, reared  near  his  father's  servants,  was  the  fairest  type  of 
that  character,  as  developed  under  Southern  institutions.  The 
affectionate  relations  existing  between  liiiii  aiul  his  servants, 
and  the  bending  of  such  a  mind  and  heart  to  their  good,  are 
the  clearest  proofs  of  the  wickedness  of  those  who  are  shed- 
ding so  niui  li  li]()3d  to  destroy  these  ties.  Another  purpose  of 
this  little  tract  is.  to  show  the  world,  in  this  specimen  amoug  a 
thousand  of  our  Christian  patriots,  how  high  and  holy  are  the 
principles  which  nerve  their  arms  in  tliis  war.  There  is  here, 
no  lust  of  power,  notoriety,  or  wealth;  n j  unsanctified  revenge: 
but  the  resolve  of  the  virtuous  soul,  sadly,  yet  firmly  accepting 
the  mournful  alternative  of  resistance,  rather  than  recreancy 


A  MEMORIAL  OF  LTEUT.  COL    JOHN  T.  THORNTON.  457 

to  flniy.  The  oneiiiit's  of  our  eouiitiy,  liowevoi*  they  niiiy  con- 
teiiiii  mi-  luatei-ial  stivnjitti,  may  well  treuible  at  the  s'uilt  of 
the  wlioU'sale  inurders  they  perpetrate  to  crush  this  riji'hteous 
sjnrit  of  defeuse.  It  is  the  spirit  of  God's  Word;  it  is  sustained 
aud  prompted,  in  its  noiblest  instances,  by  his  Holy  Ghost.  Do 
they  not  see  that,  although  God  may  chastise  our  ingratitude 
and  irreligion  towards  him,  by  using  their  wicked  hands  as  the 
instruments  of  correction,  they  are  fighting  against  him,  And 
their  murders  will  yet  be  avenged  in  calamities  so  dire,  that 
both  rhe  ears  of  them  that  hear  shall  tingle? 

But  it  is  time  to  proceed  directly  to  the  narrative  of  Tolonel 
Thornton's  religious  life.  His  brief  expressions  of  feeling  must 
be  weighed  by  the  reader  with  this  fact:  that  his  character  was 
always  marked  iby  a  strong  abhorrence  of  meaningless  profes- 
sians.  He  seems  to  have  been,  at  the  beginning  of  the  war.  not 
a  stranger  to  praj'er;  but  the  death  of  two  brothers  in  rapid  sue 
cession,  one  of  whom,  a  citizen  of  Texas,  coming  to  ^^irginia 
with  the  soldiers  of  that  State,  only  reached  Riclvmond  to  die, 
profoundly  deepened  his  religiaus  emotions.  October  18tli, 
18G1,  he  writes  from  'Camp  Bethel,  on  the  Peninsula: 

"T  feel  sometimes  very  sad  and  .solitary  in  this  long  ab 
sence  from  you.  The  death  of  S****  stunned  by  its  suddenness 
and  unexpecredness.  I  am  left  alone  of  all  my  brothers  in  tliis 
Confederacy.  *  *  *  j  would  draw  closer  to  your  side  than 
ever  bef3re. 

''It  is  hard  to  bear  my  griefs  alone;  but  I  pray  that  I  may 
see  clearly  in  these  bereavements,  the  hand  of  a  wise  and  mer- 
ciful God.  I  try  to  believe  that  'He  doth  not  afflict  willingly, 
nor  grieve  the  children  of  men';  that  'though  he  cause  grief,  yet 
will  He  have  compassion  according  to  the  muUitudeof  His  ten- 
der mercies.'  But  my  skei)ticism  is  sometimes  ])ainful.  and  it 
looks  as  th'jugh  heaven  were  covered  with  a  cloud  through 
which  my  i)rayers  could  not  pass." 

The  next  extract  which  we  make,  may  illustrate  the  ha- 
bitual temper  of  his  mind  as  to  the  issue  of  the  war  before  him: 

'^S/x  O'clock  P.  M. 
"Camp  in  Lee's  Field,  April  DM,    1862. 

"We  have  now  a  large  army  in  this  Peninsula.  Our  men 
are  in  fine  spirits,  and  I  look  with  confidence  to  the  God  of  bat- 
tles, i'd  give  us  the  victory.    I  pray  he  may  be  my  shield  in  the 


4r)tS         A  MEMOKIAL  OF  LIEUT.  COL.  JOHN"  T.    THOKNTON. 

liaiir  of  conflict.  I  liaA'e  much  to  make  life  sweet  to  me.  *  *  * 
Let  us  implore  liiirublv  and  earnestly  the  Father  of  mercies,  who 
lia.s  showered  so  many  blessings  on  us,  that  he  will  guide  us 
through  the  i»erils  of  the  dark  hours  of  war,  to  the  sunny, 
bright  days  of  peace." 

June  1st,  1862.  he  writes,  making  a  definite  avowal  of  his 
hope  in  Christ,  and  purpose  to  live  a  new  life.  After  a  tribute 
to  the  Christian  fidelity  of  her  to  whom  the  letter  is  addressed, 
tender  and  glowing,  he  thus  proceeds: 

"This  service  in  the  army  has  not  been  without  its  bene- 
fits, and  as  I  trust,  great,  lasting,  and  eternal  benefits,  to  me. 
The  busy,  bustling  life,  that  I  had  led  ever  since  I  left  college, 
until  I  left  home  for  the  war,  gave  me  but  little  time  for  calm, 
serious,  sober  thought  on  my  past  history  and  future  life.  In 
tile  ((uicr  of  the  outpost,  in  the  stillness  of  the  camp  at  night,  in 
the  weary,  solitary  journeys  to  visit  the  chain  of  sentinels.  I  find 
ample  time  for  refiection.  With  no  books  to  read,  with  no  busi- 
ness cares  to  engross  or  distract  my  attention,  my  mind  has 
turned  back  upon  myself,  and  often  has  the  path  I  have  trod 
been  traveled  over  again  by  me.  Thoughts  of  you  *  *  *' 
restrained  me  from  those  vulgar  vices  of  the  camp,  drinking 
and  card-playing.  Thoughts  of  you  *  *  *,  kept  back  my 
tongue  from  profanity,  and  then  thoughts  of  the  words  you 
had  spoken  and  written  ta  me  *  »  *,  and  thoughts  of  the 
goodness  of  God,  and  of  my  sins,  and  of  my  need  as  a  sinner, 
led  me  to  seek  salvation  through  the  mercy  of  God,  and  the 
atonement  of  Jesus.  I  trust  *  *  *,  that  I  truly  believe, 
and  shall  prove  faithful  to  the  end,  and  be  an  inheritor  of  the 
promises 

"If  I  am  spared  to  return  home,  I  trust  that  you  and  I 
*  *  *  will  live  through  long  years,  to  serve  our  Heavenly 
Father  who  has  been  so  kind  to  us,  if  such  be  his  holy  will.  But 
and  honor  and  praise  thee.  Bless  the  children  thou  hast  given 
to  us.  Aid  us  to  train  them  up  in  thy  knowledge  and  in  thy 
fear,  and  to  make  them  thy  servants,  pure,  holy,  and  obedient. 

"For  my  servants.  Oh  Lord  God!  I  pray.  Teach  me  how  to 
act  as  their  master,  and  instruct  them  how  to  discharge  their 
duties  as  servants.  Fill  their  hearts  with  love  for  thee;  teach 
them  to  shun  all  evil,  to  live  purely  and  uprightly,  and  finally 
save  them  with  an  eternal  salvation. 


A  MEMORIAL  OF  LIEUT.  COL    JOHN  T.  THORNTON.  450 

"Info  fhy  hands  of  love  and  morcy  T  trnstinoly  commit  my- 
self. Oil  Lt)i'd  (rod  Alimip;lity.  If  it  be  in  accordance  with  thy 
wise  and  ^vvat  purposes,  I  beseech  thee,  bear  me  safely  through 
all  the  perils  of  this  war.  Carry  me  back  to  my  wife  and  home 
and  children;  and  make  me  faithful  to  thee,  walking-  in  thy 
statutes,  observing  thy  coniimandments,  and  honoring  thee  in 
all  pnreness  and  holiness  of  living.  But  if.  Oh  Lord!  according 
to  thy  righteous  decree,  I  am  to  fall  by  the  hands  of  the  enemy, 
or  to  die  from  any  cause,  then  I  implore  thee.  Heavenly  Father, 
receive  my  soul,  and  take  me  to  heaven  to  dwell  forever  in  the 
light  of  thy  holiness. 

''If  I  have  asked.  Oh  Lord,  any  tiling  wrong,  I  pray  thee, 
forgive  the  evil  thought,  and  blot  out  the  wicked  petition.  If 
my  prayers  are  pure  and  right.  I  'beseech  thee  in  the  name  of 
Jesus,  and  by  reason  of  his  death  and  sufferings,  and  because  of 
his  merits,  to  answer  them.  Add,  I  pray  thee.  Heavenly  Father, 
every  blessing  on  me  and  my  household  we  are  worthy  t^  re- 
ceive; and  to  thee  let  all  honor  and  glory  be  ascribed.    Amen." 

The  following  letter  displays  his  Christian  trust  as  to  the 
issues  of  tlu^  great  struggle  in  which  his  country  was  engaged: 
"Camp  near  Richmond,  /ung  20M,    1R62. 

"It  is  now  within  four  days  of  a  year,  since  I  left  you  and 
home  to  enter  the  army.  It  has  been  a  year  crowded  with  inci- 
dents of  most  momentous  importance  to  our  State  and  Confed- 
eracy; of  events  that  will  be  read  with  interest  for  generations 
to  come,  by  the  student  of  history  and  the  statesman.  It  will 
tell  of  a  government  erected  by  wise  patriots,  overthrown  by 
mad  ambition,  sectional  hate,  and  unreasoning  fanaticism.  It 
will  tell  of  a  powerful  people  summoned  to  arms  to  resist  in- 
vasion and  subjugation.  The  nations  of  the  earth  have  looked 
with  complacency  upon  the  spectacle  of  a  fierce  and  strong  de- 
mocracy, in  a  spirit  of  direst  hate  and  meanest  vengeance, 
striving  in  every  way  to  crush  and  subjugate  a  feeble  people 
who  only  ask  to  be  let  alone.  This  people,  few  in  numbers 
compared  with  llieir  adversaries,  with  an  inadequate  su])])ly  of 
arms  and  munitions  of  war.  shut  up  from  intercourse  with  any 
portion  of  the  world,  have  kept  them  at  bay  for  one  year,  and 
at  the  end  of  that  time  have  forced  them  to  call  for  a  large  in- 
crease of  their  military  force.  It  is  true,  we  during  this  time 
have  sustained  grievous  reverses.    In  the  future,  we  have  sad 


460         A  MEMORIAL  OF  LIEUT.  COL.  JOHN"  T.   THOKNTON. 

and  severe  trials  before  us.  liut  (Jud  iu  his  luercj'  has  borue 
lis  up.  and  sustaiiied  us  tlius  far.  in  our  struggle  for  independ- 
ence, and  I  have  an  aA»iding  faith  that  he  will  crown  us  iu  the 
end  with  victory.  I  acknowledge  with  gratitude  his  mercy  to 
nie  in  this  year  of  affliction.  While  so  many  have  fallen  around 
uu\  from  disease  and  the  enemy,  he  has  graciously  given  me 
health  and  strength.  He  has  mercifully  protected  you  and  our 
dear  children,  and  our  servants,  during  these  twelve  months  of 
tribulations.  Let  us  praise  his  holy  name,  and  give  thanks  with 
grateful  souls,  for  his  loving  kindness  and  mercy.  He  is  a 
'Crod  of  comfort'  to  us,  as  St.  Paul  calls  him.  T  do  sincerely 
pray  that  all  thi.s  tendci'  care  of  me  may  excite  lively  emotions 
of  piety  in  my  soul,  and  may  constrain  me  to  unite  in  your 
jii-ayer  that  God  will  strengthen  me  and  enable  me  to  persevere 
in  ih(^  new  life  I  am  striving  t3  lead." 

June  i'5th,  he  writes: 

"It  is  useless  to  speculate  as  to  the  period  when  the  war 
will  end.  I  lu^ir  oi)inion>;  of  various  shades  ex})ressed.  It  is 
si  ill  more  idle  to  indulge  in  thoughts  of  what  is  to  become  of 
you  and  me  in  the  progress  of  the  conflict.  Our  lives  and  fjr- 
tunes  are  in  the  hands  of  an  all-wise  and  merciful  God.  and  we 
must  give  our  souls  repose  in  the  faith  that  he  will  do  all  things 
for  us  better  than  we  could  for  ourselves.  This  is  the  truest, 
best,  and  firmest  consolation  we  can  have  in  these  days  of  trou- 
ble. When  I  can  A'isit  home,  it  is  impossible  for  me  to  say. 
How  much  I  would  like  to  drop  in  on  you  this  morning,  and  see 
you  with  our  children  all  around  you.  Let  us  trust  such  joy  is 
laid  ujt  in  store  for  us,  and  without  })erplexing  our  hearts,  look 
forward  to  the  future  with  confidence  and  courage.  I  doubt  not, 
your  faith  is  firmer  than  mine;  but  by  mutual  encouragement, 
we  can  strengthen  the  hearts  of  each  other,  to  bear  misfortune, 
if  it  is  sent  upon  us,  or  to  receive  with  joy  and  gratitude  what- 
ever blessings  may  be  vouchsafed." 

July  4th,  1862,  he  thus  announces  the  results  of  the  cam- 
paign before  Kichmond: 

"The  papers  will  give  you  an  account  of  the  triumphs 
vouchsafed  to  our  arms  by  God,  in  the  late  battles  around  Rich- 
mond. He  has  mercifully  protected  me,  but  our  htss  in  killed 
and  wounded  is  fearfully  large.  Our  whole  land  will  be  clothed 
iu  mourning.    I  pray  God  to  console  the  bereaved  hearts,  and 


A  MEMORIAL  OF  IJEtJT.   COL.  JOHN  T    THORNTON  401 

to  tiii'u  the  charities  of  all  our  people  upon  those  whose  earthly 
protectors  have  'been  taken  from  them." 

The  reader  will  now  be  able  to  nnderstand  the  allusion  of 
the  following 

PRAYER. 

July  \th,  1862. 

My  Father  in  Heaven,  I  come  before  thee  this  morning;  wirh 
a  song  of  praise  and  thanksgiving  for  the  victory  thou  hast 
given  us  over  our  enemies.  Oh  Lord,  thou  hast  heard  the  pray- 
ers of  thy  people;  their  supplications  and  petitions  have  ascend- 
ed to  thy  throne,  and  in  the  abundance  of  thy  mercies  thou 
hast  heard  them  and  answered  them,  by  granting  to  our  arms  a 
triumph  over  our  invaders.  I  feel  and  confess  it  is  all  from 
thee.  Lord  God  Almighty;  and  to  thy  holy  and  glorious  name  do 
I  ascribe  all  the  praise.  Continue,  I  praj'  thee,  thy  mercy  and 
kindness  to  us  as  a  nation.  Give  wisdom  from  on  high  to  our 
rulers  and  generals,  and  all  others  in  authority.  Strengthen 
the  hearts  of  our  soldiers,  ishield  their  heads,  and  with  thy 
strong  arm  bear  up  our  banner  in  the  conflict  that  is  before  us. 
Confuse  and  confound  the  counsels  of  our  adversaries,  drive 
them  from  our  territory,  and  compel  them  by  thy  providence, 
to  grant  us  a  just  and  honorable  peace.  I  pray  thee,  Oh  Lord, 
to  send  thy  Holy  Spirit  into  the  hearts  of  our  soldiers,  and 
make  them  soldiers  of  the  Cross.  Convert  them  to  thy  service, 
and  make  the  people  of  the  Confederate  States  a  pious  people, 
whose  God  is  the  Lord.  I  pray  thee  Oh  Lord,  to  be  with  the 
sick  and  wounded  of  our  army,  in  the  hospitals  and  in  the 
camps;  alleviate  their  sufferings,  soothe  their  pains,  turn  tiieir 
hearts  to  thee,  and  bless  them  whether  they  live  or  die.  I  pray, 
Oh  God,  for  a  blessing  on  the  regiment  in  which  I  serve.  Make 
all  connected  with  it  godly  men  and  brave  soldiers.  Grant 
them  grace  to  serve  thee,  and  give  them  courage  for  the  dis- 
charge of  every  duty. 

''I  pray  thee.  Oh  Lord,  to  forgive  my  sins,  to  wash  away 
my  iniquities,  to  renew  my  heart.  Pour  upon  me  thy  grace,  so 
that  I  may  always  do  thy  will.  I  pray,  most  merciful  Father, 
that  thou  wilt  make  me  pure,  give  me  strength  to  put  aw^ay  all 
evil  thoughts  and  impure  desires,  to  resist  all  temptations  and 
wicked  suggestions.  INLake  me  to  love  thee  supremely,  and  to 
prefer  above  all  things  else  to  do  thy  will,  and  to  enjoy  more 


46:^         A  MEMORIAL  OF  LIEUT.  COL.  JOHN  T.  THORNTON. 

than  any  other  employment,  thy  holy  service.  Enable  me,  Oh 
Father,  to  live  near  to  thy  Divine  Son,  m}-  Kedeemer,  the  Lord 
Jesus  Christ,  the  Saviour  of  men.  Be  thou.  Oh  Sdu  of  God. 
if,  in  his  wisdom  and  justice  and  mercj',  he  deteraiines  other- 
wise, and  either  of  us  be  sliorth'  taken  from  the  other,  then 
may  the  otlier  ibear  the  chastisement  with  meekness,  and  l3ok 
forward  to  a  reunion  in  God's  own  good  time,  on  rhat  blessed 
shore,  where  adieus  and  farewells  are  sounds  unknown.     *     * 

*     Kiss  all  the  boys  for  me.    Give  my  love  to  Mrs. ;  I  hope 

she  has  recovered.  Remember  me  kindly  to  the  servants.  Fare- 
well,    *     "■     *.     May  God  keep  you  and  our  dear  children." 

June  4th,  1862,  he  writes  thus: 

'Tell  the  dear  boys  I  think  often  of  them,  and  trust  they 
will  be  obedient  to  you,  and  industrious  in  their  studies.  I  have 
high  hopes  and  expectations  of  our  boys,  and  it  would  be  a 
mercy  of  G3d  for  which  we  should  pray,  that  you  and  I  may 
be  spared  to  see  them  reared  to  manhood,  and  to  use  our  exer- 
tions to  lead  them  to  the  paths  of  piety  and  honor." 

The  same  hopes  are  pursued  in  his  next: 

"Camp  near  Richmond,  June  Vlih,  1862. 

"It  is  one  of  my  earnest  petitions  to  God.  that  if  it  be  in 
accordance  with  his  wise  decrees,  he  may  spare  you  and  me,  lo 
train  our  dear  boys  under  his  guidance.  I  feel  how  weak  and 
feeble  I  am  in  the  Christian  life.  I  trust,  with  fear  and  trem- 
bling, that  my  faith  is  sincere,  and  my  hopes  are  well  grounded. 

Certainly  I  could  not  object  to  your  telling  our  friend  L ,  or 

any  other  friend  you  might  desire  to  talk  with  on  the  subject, 
of  my  hope  that  my  sins  are  pardoned,  and  that  I  am  a  true  be- 
liever. But.  I  do  not  wish  you  to  be  deceived  as  to  the  state  of 
my  heart,  and  I  know  you  would  not  deceive  any  one  else.  I 
have  sinned  much  and  long.  I  try,  with  a  sincere  penitence,  I 
trust,  t'd  ask  forgiveness  of  those  sins  from  our  Heavenly  Fath- 
er, by  reason  of  the  atonement  made  iby  our  loving  Saviour, 
whose  righteousness  I  implore  may  be  imputed  to  me.  I  feel 
the  risings  of  sin  in  my  heart  every  day.  I  endeavor  to  diive 
impure  thoughts  from  my  heart,  to  banish  wicked  words  from 
wxy  tongue,  and  to  keep  my  hands  from  unclean  deeds,  but  de- 
spite my  striving,  my  prayers,  my  penitence,  I  sin.  Conscious 
of  my  guilt,  pra3'ing  for  forgiveness,  I  am  a  poor,  weak  Chris- 
tian.   You  must  not  then  expect  to  see  high  Christian  graces  in 


A  MEMORIAL  oF  LIEUT.  COL.  JOHN  T    THORNTON.        463 

me.  I  hope,  I  trust,  I  pray  for  increase  of  faith.  I  try  to  be- 
lieve and  implore  God  to  help  my  unbelief.  I  notice  all  you 
say  in  reference  to  conversation  with  old  and  tried  Christians. 
I  should  be  rejoiced  to  have  such  friends  to  commune  with,  but 
I  never  could  unveil  my  heart  to  any  one  except  you;  and  even 
now,  I  do  not  know  how  I  could  speak  to  any  one  of  my  desire 
to  be  a  Christian,  of  my  communings  with  our  Heavenly  Father, 
of  my  faith  in  our  adorable  Saviour,  of  my  prayers  for  the  in- 
fluence of  the  Holy  Ghost.  You  must  be  my  guide  *  *  » 
in  the  Christian  walk  *  *  *  and  to  you  I  must  look  for 
advice  and  counsel.  I  pray  that  the  war  may  end,  and  you. 
may  take  my  hand  in  yours,  and  that  we  may  pass  along  life's 
journey,  aiding  and  encouraging  each  other  in  ali  o':r  '"luislian 
duties." 

About  this  time  was  written  the  first  of  these  prayers  which 
has  been  preserved;  its  date  is  June  10th.  The  bloody,  but  in- 
decisive battle  of  Seven  Pines  had  then  been  fought.  The  vast 
hosts  of  Federals  were  pressing  close  up  to  the  beleaguered  city. 
The  ami}'  of  Jackson  was  seemingly  involved  past  hope  in  those 
complications  of  danger,  from  which  it  was  soon  to  emerge  in  a 
blaze  of  glory.  Every  where,  the  condition  of  the  Confederacy 
seemed  to  anxious  patriots  perilous,  in  the  extreme.,  It  was  at 
this  juncture  Colonel  Thornton  penned  these  devout  and  solemn 
petitions: 

A  PRAYER. 

^'I  beseech  and  implore  thee,  merciful  Father,  to  look  down 
with  tender  compassion  on  thy  unworthy  servant,  to  forgive  his 
sins,  to  strengthen  his  faith,  to  fill  his  heart  with  thy  grace,  to 
shed  upon  his  soul  the  influences  of  thy  Holy  Spirit;  to  give 
him  bodily  strength  and  courage  for  the  discharge  of  all  his 
duties,  to  illumine  his  mind  with  thy  divine  intelligence,  to 
guide  his  feet  in  the  path  of  holiness,  to  deliver  him  from  every 
temptation  that  may  assail  him,  to  shield  him  from  every  as- 
sault of  man  or  devil,  to  maintain  him  in  health  of  body  and 
purity  of  spirit,  and  finally  to  receive  him  in  heaven,  tliy  holy 
dwelling  place;  there  to  live  forever  in  the  joy  and  delight  of 
thy  presence. 

'^I  pray  thee,  Oh  God!  to  blot  out  my  sins.  I  f(^el  how  vile 
and  impure  I  am  and  have  been.  I  feel  that  I  can  lind  refuge 
alone  in  the  abundance  of  thy  tender  mercies:  that  nothing  but 


404        A  MEMORIAL  OF  LIEUT.  CoL.  JOHN  T.  THORNTON. 

:he  blood  of  Jesus,  our  adorable  Saviour  cau  cleause  my  vile 
heart  of  its  pollution.  Tnder  the  shadow  of  thy  mercy  I  seek 
to  hide:  in  the  flood  that  flows  from  Calvary,  I  wash  my  soul. 

•Treserve  me,  Oh  Lord!  from  presumption,  from  a  vain  and 
foolish  reliance  on  my  own  strength,  from  a  silly  confidence  in 
the  power  and  efficacy  of  my  own  good  works;  cause  me  at  all 
times  to  know  my  folly  and  weakness;  keep  me  continually 
luindful  that  salvation  is  all  of  free,  unmerited  grace;  and  never 
allow  me  for  an  instant  to  forget  that  the  works  of  man,  even 
the  best  he  can  perform,  are  marked  by  folly,  and  stained  with 
guilt." 

"In  thy  hands,  Oh  meiciful  Father,  are  the  fortunes  of  my 
beloved  State  and  Country.  I  recognize  thy  chastening  hand  in 
the  afflictions  thou  hast  sent  upon  our  laud  and  upon  our  peo- 
ple. Teach  us  all  to  submit  with  Christian  humility  to  these 
sad  tribulations,  to  bear  with  Christian  resignation  these  severe 
trials,  to  bow  ibeneath  the  rod,  and  with  reverence  to  honor  the 
hand  that  smites.  In  thine  own  appointed  time.  Oh  God!  thou 
wilt  deliver  us  from  the  hands  of  our  enemies  and  of  those  who 
hate  us.  Thou,  Oh  Lord!  wilt,  in  thy  good  time,  lead  us  by  a 
l)ath  that  thou  wilt  open  to  our  feet,  to  safety  and  independence. 
lie  thou.  Oh  Lard!  our  stay  and  our  deliverance.  In  the  day  of 
i)attlebe  with  us;  uphold  our  hands,  strengthen  our  hearts,  and 
give  us  victory  over  our  foes.  Oh  Lord!  smite  with  thy  right- 
eous indignation  the  cruel  invaders  who  now  drive  us  from  our 
homes  and  besiege  our  capital.  Send  thy  angel,  armed  with 
the  sword  of  justice,  to  execute  vengeance  upon  our  cruel  foes. 
Make  our  army  a  holy  instrument  in  thy  hands,  to  punish  the 
insolent  tyrants  who  are  now  endeavoring  to  subjugate  our 
people,  to  free  our  slaves,  to  confiscate  our  lands,  and  to  take 
from  us  all  that  in  thy  goodness,  thou  hast  given  us.  Drive 
the  enemy,  Oh  Lord!  from  our  soil.  Give  us,  merciful  Father, 
the  blessings  of  peace.  Shed  the  influences  of  thy  Holy  Spirit 
upon  the  hearts  of  our  rulers  and  people,  upon  the  hearts  of 
the  officers  and  privates  of  our  army,  and  make  us  a  God-fearing 
nation,  whose  ruler  is  the  great  Jehovah.  I  implore  thee.  Oh 
God!  for  thy  blessing  and  especial  favor  on  the  regiment  in 
wliich  I  am  ser\ing.  Make  them  pure  and  holy.  Make  them  a 
l)and  of  Christian  warriors,  who  shall  fight  in  thy  strength. 
Cover  their  heads  in  the  hour  of  conflict;  crown  them  with  vie- 


A  MEMOHIAL  OF  LIETJT.  COL.  JOHN  T.  THORNTON.  465 

torv  over  our  Xorthern  foes,  and  over  the  wiles  and  machina- 
tions of  the  Evil  One. 

''I  beseech  thee,  Heavenly  Father,  to  guard  and  guide,  and 
console,  and  sustain,  thv  handmaiden  and  servant,  the  wife 
whom  thou  hast  given  me.  Bless  her.  Oh  Lord  I  at  all  times. 
Write  thy  law  upon  her  heart.  Shield  her  from  all  evil,  and 
if  it  be  thy  holy  will,  unite  her  and  myself  once  more,  and  per- 
mit us  together,  as  heads  of  a  Christian  family,  in  peace  to  serve 
my  elder  Brother;  thou  hast  atoned  for  my  sins;  hear  my  pray- 
ers for  forgiveness  and  acceptance  to  our  Father,  and  bring  me 
bark  rich  spiritual  gifts.  I  pray  thee.  Oh  God,  to  grant  me 
health  of  body  and  steadiness  of  purpose,  and  cool,  deliberate 
courage,  and  iurelligence,  to  discharge  all  the  duties  of  my  po- 
sition. Be  with  me  in  every  trial:  if  thou  wilt,  shield  me  from 
every  danger;  if  it  be  thy  will  that  I  fall  in  battle,  receive  my 
spirit,  and  take  me  to  thy  heavenly  mansion,  to  dwell  there 
forever  in  peace  and  rest,  and  joy  and  bliss,  praising  and  serving 
thee. 

"Oh  merciful  Father,  I  implore  thy  blessing  upon  my  be- 
loved wife.  Comfort,  console,  and  sustain  her,  I  pray  thee; 
fill  her  heart  with  thy  grace;  give  her  strength  sufficient  for  all 
the  severe  labors  she  has  to  perform;  grant  her  wisdom  from 
on  high  to  discharge  every  duty.  Reunite  her  and  myself,  and 
let  us  througli  long  years  of  peace,  worship  thee,  and  train  our 
children  and  servants  in  thy  service.  I  pray  thee.  Heavenly 
Father,  to  bless  my  children;  and  till  their  tender  hearts  with 
love  for  thee;  make  them  thy  children;  make  them  thine  by 
election  and  adoption.  Give  their  parents  wisdom  and  grace, 
to  train  them  for  a  heavenly  inheritance.  Bless  my  servants,  I 
implore  thee,  most  merciful  God.  Enable  me  to  instruct  them 
jjroperly,  and  to  govern  them  wisely.  Make  them  thy  servants, 
zealous  in  every  good  work;  and  finally  receive  them  to  thyself 
in  heaven. 

"I  ask  all  these  blessings  in  the  name  of  my  Saviour  Jesus. 
I  oifer  these  petitions  in  the  name  of  thy  Holy  Son.  Hear  me, 
and  answer  me.  Oh  God.  Pour  upon  me  every  blessing  thou 
in  thy  mercy  and  loving  kindness,  wilt  grant.    Amen.'' 


466         A  MEMORIAL  OF  LIEUT.  COL.  JOHN  T.  THORNTON. 
ANOTHER   PRAYER. 

July  21^/,  1862. 

"I  approach  thy  throue,  my  Heavenly  Father,  this  day,  to 
acknowledge  the  benefits  with  which,  in  thy  loving  kindness  and 
mercy,  thou  hast  crowned  me  all  the  days  of  my  life:  to  confess 
my  sins,  to  implore  forgiveness,  to  ask  for  thy  grace  and  the 
influences  of  th^'  Holy  Sjjirit;  and  to  beseech  thee  to  continue  to 
regard  me  with  favor,  to  load  me  with  blessings,  and  to  grant 
me  courage  of  heart  and  strength  of  body  to  discharge  rightly 
and  properly  all  the  duties  of  my  position.  Oh  (xod.  wash  my 
clean  in  the  blood  of  thy  Son,  Christ  Jesus,  my  Saviour.  Let 
me  go  to  the  cross,  and  live  near  to  him  who  died  that  I  may 
live.  Raise  me  from  the  grave  to  sit  beside  him  who  first  rose 
from  the  grave  that  he  might  show  to  men  the  way  to  heaven. 
In  his  name  I  ofifer  my  petitions;  through  his  intercession  I  ask 
forgiveness;  by  reason  of  his  sufferings  and  atonement,  I  ex- 
pect salvation.  I  know  that  I  am  guilty,  polluted,  undone,  and 
ruined;  but  I  thank  thee,  Oh  merciful  Father,  that  on  Calvary 
thou  didst  open  a  fountain,  in  whose  stream  the  vilest  and  filth- 
iest sinner  may  wash  his  guilt  away.  To  that  fountain  filled 
with  blood  I  would  come,  and  cleanse  my  heart  from  every 
stain.  Pity,  forgive,  and  save  me.  Lord  God  Almiglity.  I  pray 
thee,  merciful  Father,  to  shield  me  from  all  the  perils  that  as- 
sail my  life;  from  the  pestilence  that  is  abroad  in  the  land,  and 
from  the  cruel  enemy  that  has  invaded,  and  is  now  ravaging 
and  destroying  my  State  and  Country.  Be  with  me.  Oh  Lord 
God,  at  all  times;  shield  me  in  the  hour  of  couflicr,  and  make 
my  hand  strong  to  strike  for  truth,  and  justice,  and  right.  Save 
me,  merciful  Father,  and  restore  me,  when  the  war  is  over,  and 
thou  hast  sent  peace  on  our  land,  to  my  home,  my  wife,  my  chil- 
dren, and  my  servants. 

"Bless,  guide,  comfort,  and  console  the  wife  thou  hast  giv- 
en me,  and  the  children  that  have  been  born  of  our  marriage. 
Reign  and  rule  in  their  hearts.  Make  the  mother  skilful  and 
apt  to  teach  her  children  thy  law,  and  turn  the  hearts  of  the 
children  to  do  thy  will.  Reunite  us,  merciful  Father,  and  up- 
hold thy  handmaiden  and  myself  as  the  heads  of  a  Christian 
family,  and  our  offspring  and  servants  as  its  members,  teach- 
ing us  all  to  love  thy  word  and  thy  law,  to  live  as  becometh 
them  who  are  stri^ing  for  a  heavenly  inlieiitance,  and  finally 


A  MEMORIAL   OF  LIEUT.  COL.  JOHN  T.  THORNTON.         467 

receive  us  all  into  heaven,  thy  holy  dwelling  place,  to  i)iaise 
and  honor  and  serve  thee  through  all  eternity. 

"Oh  Lord  God!  have  mercy  on  my  country,  these  (Vinfcd- 
erate  states,  naw  struggling  for  salvation  from  tyranny  and  op- 
pression, and  seeking  the  rights  thou  hast  given  us  as  a  nation, 
through  an  agony  of  blood  and  suffering.  I  see,  Oh  God,  the 
desolations  that  mark  the  footsteps  of  our  cruel  enemy.  Befoi-e 
me  are  the  naked  fields,  the  ruins  of  the  'burned  dwelling,  and 
far  away  from  the  fierce  foe  are  the  houseless  and  homeless 
wanderers.  These  cruel  tyrants  boast  of  their  large  numbers, 
their  great  wealth,  and  their  power,  vastly  superior  to  that  of 
these  poor  KStates.  They  rely  on  the  arm  of  fiesh.  Wc  trust  in 
thee,  Oh  Lord  God  Jehovah!  Be  thou  our  fortress  and  our  de- 
fense; God  of  battles,  be  with  the  soldiers  of  this  ('onfederacy, 
and  give  them  victory;  God  of  truth  and  justice,  reign  in  the 
hearts  of  the  people  all  over  the  land;  God  of  wisdom,  illumine 
the  minds  of  our  rulers  and  officers;  God  of  mercy,  give  us 
peace;  God  of  nations,  give  us  independence;  and  to  thy  name 
be  all  honor  and  glory,  forever  and  ever.    Amen.'' 

July  22nd,  1802,  he  wrote  from  the  region  of  the  I'amun- 
key,  a  letter  well  describing  the  principles  which  made  him 
resolute  in  enduring,  without  any  ambitious  aspirations,  a  sep- 
aration so  irksome  to  his  soul. 

"I  aim  amused  at  the  delight  you  so  heartily  manifest,  at 
my  not  meeting  the  enemy,  who  were  reported  as  crossing  into 
King  \Mlliam.  You  say  you  cannot  wish  me  any  opportunity 
of  distinction  wliere  my  life  will  be  placed  in  jeopardy.  In  re- 
ply I  would  say,  tliat  I  only  desire  to  do  my  duty.  I  have  no 
thirst  for  military  fame;  for  I  know  it  is  won  through  blood 
and  tears  and  suffering.  But  I  do  desire  to  aid  in  driving  the 
base  invader  from  Mrginia's  soil.  I  am  amazed  that  men  can 
sit  quietly  at  home,  when  they  see  the  fate  that  awaits  us  if 
the  enemy  succeeds  in  subjugating  us.  I  am  sitting  now,  as  I 
write,  in  full  view  of  what  was,  before  the  invasion,  one  of  the 
loveliest  estates  in  Virginia.  It  is  now  a  scene  of  desolation; 
the  fields  are  naked,  the  fences  destroyed,  the  houses  burned, 
the  laborers  stoh^i  away,  and  the  owners  fugitives,  and,  if  this 
were  all  their  wealth,  beggars." 

His  remaining  letters,  written  on  the  march  from  lower 
Virginia  to  Manassas  and  Maryland,  were  little    more    than 


468         A  MEMOEIAL  OF  LIEUT.  COL.  JOHN  T.  THORNTON. 

brief  notes,  penned  in  mniueuts  snatched  from  the  fatigues  of 
the  journej.  But  in  all  of  them,  his  3'earnings  for  the  SDciety 
of  his  beloved  home  were  mingled  with  prayers  for  faith  and 
strength  to  bear  his  lot  with  fortitude.  The  last  specimen  of 
prayer  which  he  left  is  incomplete.  Perhaps  the  bugle-call 
summoned  him  away  from  the  solemn  and  pleasing  communion 
of  the  mercy  seat,  to  the  march  or  the  combat. 

THE    LAST    PRAYER. 

July   21th,  1862. 

''I  come  before  thee.  Oh  Lord  God  Ahuighty,  on  this  thy 
holy  day,  to  thank  thee  for  the  many  mercies  I  have  received 
from  thy  loving  hand,  and  for  the  protection  thou  liast  here- 
tofore afforded  me;  to  ask  that  thou  wilt  not  withdraw  thA" 
mercy,  favor,  and  protection  from  me,  but  wilt  continue  to 
crown  me  with  blessings,  and  shield  me  from  all  assaults  of 
the  world,  the  flesh,  and  the  Devil.  I  come  to  implore  the  for- 
giveness of  my  sins,  pardon  for  all  my  guilt,  and  eternal  salva- 
tion for  my  soul,  through  the  merits  and  intercession  of  thine 
adorable  Son  Christ  Jesus.  I  come  to  praise  thee  for  the  loving 
kindness  and  tender  compassion  which,  at  such  a  cost,  and  at 
such  a  sacrifice,  furnished  a  way  of  escape  for  guilty  man.  Oh 
Lord!  I  would  live  near  to  thy  Son  Christ  Jesus,  our  Lord  and 
Saviour.  I  pray  thee  to  give  me  grace,  to  illumine  my  under- 
standing, to  fill  my  heart  with  love,  to  make  thy  service  my  de- 
lightful work,  and  obedience  to  thy  law  my  most  pleasant  duty. 
Save  me,  I  beseech  thee,  from  vain-glorying,  from  boasting, 
from  self-reliance, " 

Thus  the  expression  of  his  longings  for  holiness  were  brok- 
en off  unfinished,  like  his  life.  But  his  friends  may  trust  that 
his  life,  so  full  of  promise  here  was  but  the  infancy  of  a  far  more 
blessed  and  glorious  existence  in  that  heaven  to  which  he  as- 
pired; and  so,  that  these  acts  of  worship,  interrupted  here  below 
are  now  continued  with  a  nobler,  sweeter  tongue,  and  with 
higher  raptures,  where  there  are  no  wars  nor  rumors  of  wars 
to  disturb  the  saints,  in  the  heavenly  Sabbath. 

These  mementoes  exhibit,  so  far  as  a  brief  Christian  life 
of  less  than  a  year  could,  the  renewing  power  of  the  religion 
of  Jesus  Christ,  in  a  high  degree.  The  scriptural  tone  of  the 
petitions  shows,  in  one  so  young  in  divine  knowledge,  the  evi- 
dent teachings  of  the  Holy    Ghost.    The    change    in    Colonel 


A  MEMORIAL  OF  LIEUT.  COL.  JOHN  T.  THORNTON.  469 

Tlioiiitou's  cliaracter  was  marked.  He  was,  by  nature,  a  proud 
spirit ;  we  here  find  his  prayers  breathing  the  most  profound  hu- 
mility. His  character  was  usuallj-  apprehended  to  be  stern; 
these  exercises  of  soul  are  instinct  with  a  melting  tenderness, 
for  all.  except  the  enemies  of  righteousness.  This  attempt  to 
display  his  inner  life  is  now  closed,  with  the  earnest  prayer, 
that  God  may  incline  the  hearts  of  all  his  friends  and  com'- 
rades,  and  of  every  brave  soldier  of  our  country,  to  seek  his 
Saviour,  to  imitate  his  example  so  far  as  he  was  a  folljwer  of 
Jesus  Christ,  and  to  raise  to  the  throne  of  grace,  these,  or  such- 
like prayers. 


NATURE  CANNOT  REVOLUTIONIZE  NATURE.' 


■'And  the  gates  of  hell  shall  not  prevail  again.st  it."" 

Thei-e  are  soni^^  thinj^s  wliicli  can  'be  daiie,  and  tliei'e  are 
.some  others  whii-li  obvionslv  cannot.  The  curion-;  thing  about 
this  very  trite  fact  is,  that  peojjle  continue  tryinii,-  to  do  these 
other  thinjis,  as  thouj;h  they  were  feasible.  This  they  do  both 
in  the  mechanical  and  moral  world.  Thus:  I  here  are  s:)me  peo- 
])le  always,  who  are  inventin*;-  perjx^tual  motion,  and  just  on 
the  point  of  etfecting  it.  ^lany  and  diverse,  says  the  Scientific 
American,  arc^  the  machines  invented  for  this  purpose;  but  it 
I'ecom'mends  to  all  future  experimenters,  as  the  cheapest  and 
simplest,  and  equally  effective  with  the  best,  the  plain  tub. 
The  machine  of  the  tub  is  operated  thus.  The  vessel  chosen  is 
a  large  one,  with  handles.  It  is  placed  on  the  floor;  the  opera- 
tor then  gets  into  it,  and  laying  hold  'of  the  handles  with  his 
hands,  lifts  the  tub  up  to  the  ceiling.  Succeeding  in  this,  he 
has  i)erpetual  motion  in  its  simplest  principle. 

In  every  generation,  the  social,  political,  and  religious  tub- 
lifters  are  numerous.  "Mother  Anna  Lee,"  patron  saint  of  the 
Shakers,  was  gr)ing  to  abolish  sin  by  abolishing  matrimony. 
The  j)lan  was  simple,  and  perfectly  effectual.  Convert  all  the 
a(bilt  sinners,  and  agree  that  when  converted  they  shall  have 
no  more  children.  As  all  actual  transgression  comes  out  of 
original  sin,  and  all  original  sin  is  transmitted  by  birth,  one 
generation  more  would  happily  finish  the  work  of  Satan  on 
earth.  The  good  mother  only  made  one  little  mistake  m  the 
project.  Who  were  to  carry  out  this  excellent  plan?  The  men 
and  women,  of  course.  But  men  and  women  usually  have  a 
nalural  propensity,  which  is  more  fundamental  and  regulative 
than  the  desire  to  arrest  original  sin.  So  it  turns  out  that  poor 
human  nature  doesn't  lift  itself  in  Mother  Lee's  tub;  but  goes 
on  multiplying  and  increasing,  and  replenishing  the  earth  with 

1 From  the  JVew  York  Independent-  470 


NATURE   CANNOT   REVOLUTIONIZE   NATURE  471 

3'oung:  siuuei's;  leaving  the  world's  redemption  to  the  less  sym- 
metrical plan  of  the  Grospel. 

So  Mr.  John  Stuart  Mill  proved  to  his  own  satisfaction 
that  all  individual  title  to  real  estate  is  adverse  to  the  public 
weal;  and  the  "International"  communists,  going  a  little  far- 
ther, declare,  La  propriete  cest  U  crime]  ''Establish  commun- 
itv  of  goods;  and  public  spirit  will  make  the  best  of  everything, 
and  procure  the  greatest  good  to  the  greatest  number."  Here 
again,  man  is  to  lift  himself  in  his  tub.  It  is  forgotten  that 
nature  has  made  the  desire  for  the  special  welfare  of  one's  self. 
and  of  one's  own  family,  far  stronger  than  the  desire  for  the 
general  good.  Hence  the  only  possible  result  of  the  theory  is, 
not  that  private  property  shall  be  happily  substituted  by  com- 
munism; but  that  happy  civilized  societies  may  be  plunged  into 
anarchy;  and  what  little  private  property  is  left  be  held  with 
a  far  fiercer  grasj).  and  defended  by  personal  violence  instead 
of  by  regulated  and  benignant  law.  Natural  selfishness  will 
never  lift  itself  into  disinterestedness,  least  of  all  by  force  of  an 
infidel  creed  which  makes  selfish  pleasure  its  summufn  bonum. 

Another  instance  of  the  tub-movement  is  seen  in  Mrs.  Cady 
Stanton's  ''Women's  Rights."  Woman  is  to  be  freed  from  her 
subordination  to  man  I  By  whom,  forsooth?  X>ot  by  the  sel- 
fish, masculine  despot,  of  course;  for  every  impulse  of  his  sel- 
fishness prompts  him  to  perpetuate  the  tyranny.  It  is  to  be 
done,  then,  by  woman.  She  is  to  make  her.self  independent  of 
man!  But  the  Creator,  who  made  men  and  women,  has  laid 
down  the  law,  "I'nto  him  shall  be  thy  desire,"  as  the  founda- 
tion of  woman's  nature.  So  tluit  the  amount  of  the  claim  for 
women's  rights  is,  again,  tliat  the  inventor  shall  lift  herself  in 
her  tub.  Were  the  realizing  of  the  revolution  the  only  danger, 
men  might  safely  give  ^Irs.  Cady  Stant ju  tlieir  full  leave  to 
succeed.  She  would  then  find  that  her  real  difficulty  was  un- 
surmounted;  thnt  every  one  of  her  "oppressed"  sisters,  who  was 
a  true  woman,  would  Aoluntarily  desert  her  and  seek  to  be  be- 
loved, cherished,  and  jtrotected  by  one  of  the  masculine  "ty- 
rants"; and  this  by  the  inevitable  force  of  a  nature  a  thou- 
sandfold more  imperative  than  her  zeal  for  ^frs.  Cady  Stan- 
ton's revolution.  And  hence  again,  tlie  only  possible  result  of 
this  movement  will  he,  not  the  independence  and  equality  of 
woman,  but  the  substitution  of  the  savage  dependence  of  the 


472  NATURE  CANNOT  REVOLUTIONIZE  NATURE 

slave-concubine,  tlie  ''weaker  vessel"  held  and  abused  by  brute 
force,  for  tlie  benignant  order  of  scriptural  marriage. 

These  attempts  to  do  the  impossible  illustrate  the  most  ab- 
surd enterprise  of  all:  the  attempt  of  our  modern  materialistic 
infidels  to  abolisli  religion.  Tlie  Commune  shouted,  "Down 
wirli  pr()p(Mtv  and  leligi  m.  tlie  two  chief  enemies  of  human 
progress. ■■  The  onlv  result  of  .success  in  destroying  religion 
would  be  to  re])lace  it  with  sonn^  mischievous  superstition. 
This  is  sufficiently  e\'inced.  to  any  sober  mind.  Iiy  a  review  of  the 
past.  Every  people,  in  every  age,  has  had  either  its  religion  or 
its  superstition;  either  its  (i9d  'or  its  Fetich.  Now.  a  universal 
result  is  an  index  of  a  permanent  cause:  there  must  be  some- 
thing in  human  nature  which  compels  it  to  recognize  the  su- 
pernatural. When  our  would-be  jihilosophers  assume  that  they 
can  exist  without  this  necessity,  it  is  only  the  very  modest  pre- 
tension that  tliey  are  themselves  supernatural;  that  is.  more 
than  men.  Tliat  religion  is  inevitable  to  man  may  be  inferred 
again  from  tlu^  unif:)rm  result  of  every  attempt  which  has  been 
made  to  exclinl(\  oi-  even  to  omit  it  from  human  thought  ;ind 
life.  They  have  always  been  predestined  failures.  Thus,  those 
who  profess  to  understand  the  system  of  Tonfucius.  nominally 
so  dominant  in  China,  tell  us  that  it  is  not  really  a  religion,  but 
a  siicial  .system  of  morals;  that  it  olfers  the  Chinese  mind  no 
object  of  divine  homage  save  an  abstraction;  and  that  it  is  in 
fact  only  a  system  of  moral  rules  enforcing  the  idea  of  civic 
subordination;  the  only  wor.ship  inculcated,  that  of  dead  ances- 
tors, being  designed  merely  to  strengthen  the  impulse  of  filial 
respect.  VMiat  now,  is  the  result?  Tliere  is  id  ]ieople  who 
make  a  more  frequent  recognition  of  the  supernatural.  To  say 
nothing  of  the  vast  system  of  Buddhism,  the  whole  nation  seems 
enslaved  to  demon  worship,  and  to  the  bondage  of  "the  evil 
eye,"  "the  influence,"  and  the  genii  of  1  )calities.  Yet  the 
Chinese  are  at  once  the  most  astute  and  tlie  most  materialistic 
of  the  Oriental  races. 

But  we  may  come  nearer  home.  The  materialist  Thomas 
Hobbes,  of  Malmesbury,  was  said  to  be  more  afraid  of  ghosts 
than  any  educated  man  in  England.  Atheistic  French  Democ- 
racy professed  to  abrogate  Gad,  the  Church,  and  the  Sabbath; 
but  so  strong  was  the  religious  necessity,  that  even  these  mad- 
men enthroned  the  "Groddess  of  Reason."    Auguste  Comte  spent 


NATURE   CANNOT    REVOLUTIONIZE    NATURE.  473 

his  life  in  teaching-  that  his  ''Positive  Philosophy"  neeessarilj 
exchided  every  supernatural  notion.  But  at  its  close  he  finisli- 
ed  by  establishing  a  new  religion,  and  a  proposed  hierarchy  with 
Conite  as  its  hierophant,  and  the  soul  of  his  deceased  mistress 
as  a  sort  of  "Queen  of  Heaven." 

These  facts  may  be  set  in  a  light  istill  more  mortifying  to 
the  enemies  of  Christianity,  and  mure  conclusive  against  their 
hopes.  The  weakest  rcdigions  hav(^  always  been  strong  enough 
to  outvie  infidelity  upon  a  fair  trial.  What  has  it  then  to  hope, 
in  the  presence  of  a  true  Christianity,  with  its  purity  and  pow- 
er? Even  popery,  tlie  fruitful  mother  'of  infidels,  has  Saturn- 
ian  strength  enough  to  devour  tlu^se.  lier  own  children.  French 
po{)ery  begot  Voltaire;  and  so  sorry  a  rtdigion  as  French  popery 
was  adefjuate  to  overthrow  VoltaircMsm.  We  are  told  that  the 
effect  of  national  misfortune  and  liumiliation  has  been  to  fill 
the  Romish  Church  again  with  Freni-hmen  (and  not  women 
only),  and  to  i)reL'ii)itate  the  people  into  sham  miracles,  the  pil- 
grimages, and  the  other  fooleries  of  the  Middle  Ages.  The  Au- 
gustan age  of  classic  paganism  gave  a  similar  result.  Greek 
and  Roman  philosophy  deemed  itself  too  wise  to  retain  the  old 
traditionai-y  creed  of  their  fathers.  They  could  laugh  at  tlie 
auspices,  and  explode  Pan  and  Ceres,  Castor  and  Pollux,  with 
the  herd  of  imaginary  gods.  But  none  the  less  must  the  Au- 
gustan age  have  gods  from  some  whither;  so  philosophic  Athens 
had  its  altar  to  "The  Pnknown  God,"  and  im])erial  Rome  im- 
l)orted  Judaism,  tln^  mystery  of  the  P]gyptian  Iris,  and  the  mag- 
ic of  the  P]ast.  Now,  gentlemen  infidels,  we  may  heartily  concur 
with  you  in  your  scurvy  (\stimate  of  these  ancient  and  modern 
})aganisms,  the  religions  of  Jupiter  and  the  Po])e.  I'ut  we  re- 
mind you,  that  scurvy  as  they  were,  they  were  sufficient  to  con- 
quer you.  ''If  these  things  were  done  in  the  green  tree,  what 
shall  be  done  in  the  dry?"  If  mankind  is  compelled  by  the  con- 
stitution of  the  soul,  in  ages  when  it  seemed  to  have  no  better 
choice  than  Jbetween  these  wretched  creeds  and  you,  to  prefer 
either  of  these  to  you;  what  are  your  prospects  against  the  uni- 
versal diffusion  of  the  Christian  religion,  with  its  ennobling  and 
satisfying  truths? 

The  rational  account  of  these  results  is  in  the  law  with 
which  we  set  out.  Nature  cannot  revolutionize  nature.  The 
human  soul  has  certain  original,  constitutive,  universal  laws 


474  NATURE   CANNOT   REVOLUTIONIZE   NATURE. 

of  tliiukiug  aud  feeliug,  the  presence  of  whicli  qualify  it  as  a 
rational  liinnau  soul.  Hence,  whatever  any  soul  thinks  or  feels 
is  a  result  of  these  regulative  laws.  It  is,  then,  infallibly  cer- 
tain that  these  cannot  be  abrogated  or  expunged  by  their  own 
results,  for  the  same  reason  that  streams  cannot  change  their 
own  fountains,  anil  rliildren  cannot  determine  the  being  of  their 
own  parenrs.  Let  men,  for  instance.  thrDw  any  liglit  of  plausibil- 
ity they  may  ai-ound  mateiialism;  let  them  please  themselves 
with  tile  fancy  iliar  tliey  have  identified  mind  with  matter;  let 
the  physiologist  pretend  to  trace  the  power  of  thought  into  his 
"nerve-force,"  and  to  resolve  this  in  turn  into  electricity.  There 
remains  still  the  stubborn  and  fundamental  fact  of  psychology, 
which  the  common  sen.se  of  men  will,  in  the  end,  always  eon 
strue  for  theni.selves,  without  or  against  the  pretended  helps  of 
science;  that  the  consciousness  of  that  which  thinks,  the  sub- 
jective Ego,  is  necessarily  ]nior  to  all  possible  jterception  of 
objective  matter,  ^^o  that  the  only  terms  upon  which  man  can 
know  matter  at  all  involve  a  priori  the  recognition  of  mind  as 
inevitably  contrasted  with  matter.  That  is.  the  very  law  of  our 
cognition  is,  that  we  must  first  know  mind  as  not  matter 
in  order  to  know  matter. 

Our  most  recent  infidelity  asserts  that  nothing  is  valid  ex 
cept  that  which  is  formed  on  the  perceptions  of  the  senses.  But 
unless  they  accept  with  us  the  supersensuous  rational  belief, 
that  what  sense  gives  us  is  valid,  it  is  Impossible  for  sense  it- 
self to  show  them  any  truth. 

Again,  man  must  cease  to  be  man  before  he  can  strip  him- 
self of  conscience,  of  the  conviction  of -moral  responsibility,  of 
the  .sense  of  guilt  for  transgression,  of  hope,  of  fear,  and  of  the 
inextinguishable  desire  for  his  own  well-1)eing.  These  senti- 
ments are  the  universal  results  of  fundamental  intuitions.  All 
that  can  be  done  is  to  forget  them  or  to  obscure  them  for  a 
time;  but  when  they  are  revived  by  the  touch  of  affliction,  dan- 
ger, remorse,  or  death,  man  will  derive  and  seek  a  ])ro])itiation 
for  his  guilt,  a  preparation  for  judgment,  and  a  way  t  >  future 
happiness,  as  surely  as  he  is  man.  The  sentiment  of  religion  is 
omnipotent  in  the  end.  We  might  rest  in  assurance  of  its  tri- 
umph, even  without  appealing  to  the  work  of  .that  Holy  Ghost 
which  Christianity  promises  as  the  omnipotent  coadjutor  of  the 
truth.    While  irreligious  men  of  science  explore  the  facts  of 


NATURE   CANNOT    REVOLUTIONIZE    NATURE.  475 

natural  history,  and  the  fossils  of  earthly  strata,  for  fancied 
proofs  of  a  creation  by  evolution  which  may  dispense  with  a 
Creator,  the  luimble  heralds  of  our  Lord  Christ  will  continue  to 
lay  rheii"  hands  upon  the  heart-striuos  of  living  immortal  men, 
and  tind  there  always  forces  to  overwhelm  unbelief  with  de- 
feat. Does  tlie  "Positivist"  say  these  propositions  are  only  of 
things  spiritual?  Ay,  but  spiritual  consciousnesses  are  more 
stable  tlian  all  his  jtrimitive  granite  I  Centuries  hence,  if  man 
shall  continue  in  his  present  state  S3  long,  when  the  current 
theories  of  unbelief  shall  have  been  consigned  to  that  limbus 
where  polytheism  and  the  Ptolemaic  astronomy,  alchemy,  and 
judicial  astrology  lie  contemned,  the  servants  of  the  Cross  will 
be  winning  larger  and  yet  larger  victories  for  Christ,  with  the 
same  Gospel  which  was  preached  by  Enoch,  Noah,  Abraham, 
Moses,  Isaiah.  Paul,  Augustine  and  Calvin. 
Hampden  ^^idney,  Ya.,  Oct.  1st.  1873. 


SAMUBL  C.  ANDERSON.  OF  PRINCE  EDWARD.' 


Every  Presbytei'ian  of  intelligence,  who  visited  the  neigh- 
l)L)iIiood  of  Hampden  Sidney  aibont  the  years  1835  to  1840,  car- 
ried a\^ay  with  liini,  among  liis  most  pleasing  recollections,  the 
memories  )f  tlie  liosj)itable  mansion  of  Mr.  Anderson.  He  was 
then  in  the  prime  of  his  corporeal  and  intellectual  powers,  and 
of  his  Christian  inrtuence:  a  leading  elder  in  the  College 
riuircli,  and  rrustee  of  tlip  College,  the  foremost  advocate  at 
the  bar  of  his  county;  and  the  honored  and  trusted  adviser  of 
its  people.  His  liDuse  during  all  these  years,  was  frequented 
with  delight  il)y  young  and  old,  and  was  the  center  of  a  wide 
circle  of  cultivated,  -Christian  society;  where  Mr.  Anderson,  as- 
sisted by  his  accomplished  wife,  and  his  lovely  adopted  daugh- 
ter, dispensed  a  professional  income  almoist  princely,  in  un- 
bounded hi)spitalities  and  charities.  His  noble  person  and 
countenance  will  not  speedily  be  forgotten  by  any,  who  saw 
him  in  the  animation  of  social  converse,  or  in  the  flow  of  his 
masculine  and  impetuous  oratory.  He  was,  in  every  sense,  a 
man  of  nature's  noblest  mould. 

Amidst  the  horrors  and  confusions  attending  the  closing 
camjtaign  of  (JtMicral  Lee  upon  rhe  Appomattox,  the  death  of 
this  venerable  servant  of  God  has  perhai)s  passed  unnoted  by 
many  of  his  former  friends.  The  suspension  of  the  circulation 
of  the  religious  journals  has  also  delayed  the  publication  of 
the  usual  tribute  to  his  memory.  This  will  now  be  attempted, 
in  the  form  of  a  brief  narrative. 

Mr.  Anderson  was  the  son  of  a  respectable  planter  upon 
Willis'  Kiver.  in  the  county  of  Cumberland,  where  he  was  born 
July  21st.  1788.  l^p  to  approaching  manhood,  he  received  only 
the  plain  education  of  the  old-field-school:  when  he  was  seized 
with  an  irresistible  desire  for  a  liberal  education.  There  was  an 
excellent  classical  school  six  or  seven  miles  distant;  but  his 
father  declared  that,  while  he  might  'be  able  to  pay  his  tuition, 

1 Appeared  in  The  Presbyterian  Quarterly,  April,  1894.  476 


SAMUEL   C.    ANDERSON  477 

his  limited  cirenmstances  forbade  liis  assiiiiiino  the  expense  of 
his  boai'ding  ai)road.  The  3'oiitli  declared  that  he  would  fre- 
quent the  school  daily  from  home,  notwithstanding  the  dis- 
tance. His  father  supposed  that  he  would  soon  wearj^  of  this 
undertaking,  but  gave  his  consent  to  the  experiment.  He  joy- 
fully accepted  the  opportunity;  and  for  several  years  was  the 
most  punctual  pupil  at  the  school.  Taking  his  breakfast  with 
the  dawn,  he  might  be  seen  every  morning  before  the  sun,  set- 
ting out  afoot  upon  his  dail\'  journey,  and  he  was  usually  the 
first  scholar  at  th(^  school-house.  Here  he  gained  a  S3lid  train- 
ing in  the  classics,  and  some  of  the  rudiments  of  science;  and 
this  was  tbp  only  i)atrimony  he  ever  received  from  his  father. 

While  still  a  youth,  he  went  to  the  county  of  Powhatan, 
where  for  four  years  he  taught  a  country  school.  In  this  avoca 
tion  his  success  was  so  great,  that  old  Dr.  Lacy  (Silver-fist), 
himself  a  famous  teacher,  declared  he  ought  to  be  compelled 
to  follow  it  for  life,  for  the  public  good.  His  talent  of  com 
mand  and  force  of  character  were  here  strongly  developed.  His 
diligence  and  punctuality  were  unfailing,  and  such  was  the  in- 
dustry and  subordination  he  inspired,  that  a  lazy  or  bad  boy 
was  unknown  in  his  school.  Aftcn'  the  good,  old  Virginian 
fashion,  the  boys  and  girls  of  the  neighborhood  were  taught  to- 
gether: a  custom  which  did  much  to  foster  that  courtesy,  mu 
tual  respect,  and  purity,  which  so  highly  distinguished  the  in- 
tercourse of  the  sexes  among  us.  In  these  schools,  under  the 
eye  of  a  watchful  teacher,  the  young  learned  from  childhood 
the  proper  "metes  and  bounds''  of  virtuous  intercourse,  and 
grew  up  from  little  gentlemen  and  ladies.  Mr.  Andersan  was 
peculiarly  watchful  in  guarding  this  intercourse,  and  exacting 
of  the  'boys  a  punctilious  respect  for  their  female  associates. 
He  said  that  the  greatest  whipping  he  ever  gave,  was  to  a 
gawky  youth  (as  big  as  himself)  for  entering  the  school-room 
on  a  sultry  afternoon,  without  his  caat  (clothed  in  the  other 
garments,  shirt,  vest,  trousers,  etc.) 

Having  served  two  campaigns  with  credit  in  the  State 
forces,  during  the  war  of  1812,  he  returned  to  civil  life,  and 
studied  the  science  of  law  with  Captain  Henry  E.  Watkins,  oif 
Prince  Edward,  his  life-long  friend,  and  co-elder.  He  com- 
menced the  practice  of  this  profession  in  the  year  1816,  at 
Prince  Edward  Court  House.     Here  he  married,  settled,  and 


478  SAMUEL   C.    ANDERSON. 

spent  his  life.  His  diligence,  integrity,  and  forensic  eloquence 
si^eedily  raised  him  to  the  head  of  his  profession:  a  pasr  which 
he  did  nor  fail  to  maintain,  to  the  end  of  his  active  life.  .Vs  a 
lawyer,  he  was  quick,  ready,  full  of  resource  in  deliate.  inijta- 
tient  of  the  labor  of  preliminary  research,  but  oviM'p  )wering  in 
r(^joinder.  His  generous  sympathies  and  ardent  nature  caused 
hiui  to  identify  himself  warmly  with  his  clients:  so  that  he  was 
always  a  zealous  advocate.  His  comrades,  knowing  the  influ- 
ence of  forensic  strife  in  rousing  his  powers,  and  the  force  of 
his  oratory  upon  juries,  always  sought  to  give  him  the  closing 
speech  in  important  cases.  The  best  judges  have  said  that,  in 
those  years,  Samuel  C.  Anderson,  in  the  bar  of  Prince  Edward 
or  Buckingham,  exposing  some  artful  fraud,  or  pleading  the 
aspersed  honor  of  innocent  woman,  was  the  noblest  specimen 
of  manly  beauty,  power,  and  eloquence,  ever  seen  in  that  re- 
gion. 

Upan  the  retirement  of  John  Randolph,  of  Koanoke,  from 
Congress,  the  leading  citizens  of  his  party  urged  Mr.  Anders<(n 
to  become  a  candidate  for  that  place,  with  the  certainty  of  be- 
ing elected  his  successor.  He  declined  the  proposal,  in  favor 
of  Judge  Bouldin ;  who  served  for  a  short  time  with  great  dis- 
tinction, and  died  in  his  seat  in  the  House,  of  apoplexy.  The 
reason  assigned  by  ^Ir.  Anderson  for  refusing  political  honors 
at  that  time,  was  worthy  of  the  consideration  of  every  young 
man.  He  said  that  he  had  a  liberal  professional  income,  with 
free  and  hospitable  habits  af  living,  without  private  estate. 
Hence,  as  his  attention  to  public  affairs  must  diminish  his  earn- 
ings, he  could  not  at  once  maintain  his  domestic  estaiblishment, 
and  his  pecuniary  independence.  But  no  man,  he  judged, 
should  be  entrusted  with  the  interests  of  his  country,  whose 
j)ersonal  independence  was  encumbered  with  any  financial 
shackles:  lest  they  should  become  a  tem])tation  to  tarnish  that 
briglit  purity  of  actiDU,  which  the  public  servant  should  ever 
possess. 

Tn  the  year  1828  the  visit  of  Dr.  Xettleton  to  Virginia  oc- 
lurred,  which  resulted  in  so  remarkable  and  permanent  a  work 
of  grace.  On  the  invitation  of  Dr.  John  H.  Rice,  this  elocjuent 
and  holy  man  visited  the  region  about  the  College;  and  his  la- 
bors were  instrumental  in  bringing  into  the  church  a  large 
number  of  the  first  men  of  the  country,  of  whom  many  have 


SAMUEL   C.    ANDERSON.  479 

fallen  asleep;  but  some  vet  remain  to  adorn  tlieir  profession. 
Among  these  converts  was  Mr.  Anderson.  He  had  lived  hith- 
erto, strictly  honorable  and  virtuous  after  the  world's  standard, 
but  "without  (xod  in  the  world,"  and  in  the  very  luxuriance  of 
his  healtli,  prosperity,  and  manly  energies.  The  word  of  God 
now  took  hold  upon  him  with  giant  power.  He  declared  that  al- 
though, in  one  sense,  he  had  heard  many  able  preachers,  whose 
sermons  his  retentive  memory  would  have  enabled  him  to  re- 
peat almost  entire,  in  another  sense,  he  had  never  heard  a  ser- 
mon before.  The  nature  of  God's  law,  his  relations  to  it,  and 
liis  wants  as  a  sinner,  were  now  seen  by  him  in  as  new  a  light, 
as  though  he  had  been  hitherto  one  of  I'aul's  Athenian  hearers 
upon  .Vreopagus.  With  an  overpowering  conviction  of  his 
guilt  and  misery  fixed  in  his  soul,  he  determined  that  lie  would 
at  once  seek  its  salvation  with  all  his  might.  Dr.  Xettletou  was 
holding  private  meetings  for  special  instruction,  in  the  parlor 
of  Dr.  Rice  (in  the  northeastern  corner  of  the  Seminary  build- 
ing, then  just  partly  erected)  similar  to  what  are  now  called  iu- 
quirj'-meetings:  and  all  those  who  desired  more  particular 
knowledge  of  'what  they  must  do  to  'be  saved,'  were  invited  to 
attend  there  in  the  evening.  MauA'  powerful  impulses  of  pride 
and  false  shame  deterred  Mr.  Anderson  from  attending.  The 
evil  principles  within  him  pleaded:  "What  will  your  gay,  pro- 
fessional comrades  say,  when  thev  hear  that  the  lofty  head  of 
Samuel  C.  Anderson  is  bowed  in  such  a  meeting,  amidst  a  clus- 
ter of  weejnug  school-boys  and  girls,  confessing  his  sins  to  a 
parson?"  As  he  rode  to  the  jjlace.  his  breast  was  in  a  tumult  of 
strife;  and  when  he  came  to  the  door  of  the  room,  saw  the  lights 
within,  and  the  solemn  stillness  of  the  compau}',  so  powerful 
was  the  struggle  between  the  evil  and  the  good  within  him, 
that,  he  declared,  it  was  as  though  some  invisible,  'but  adaman- 
tine bar  had  been  placed  across  the  door  of  the  room,  which  re- 
sisted his  entrance  with  a  palpable  force.  But  he  bethought 
himself  that  this  reluctance  to  enter  was  prompted  by  sinful 
affections,  seconded  most  probably  by  Satan:  tliat  he  needed  the 
instruction  he  sought  there;  and  that  if  he  now  yielded  to  a 
false  impulse,  and  retired,  it  would  l)e  a  vii-tual  turning  of  iiis 
back  upon  Christ  and  duty,  for  the  sake  of  sin,  and  might  be 
the  sealing  of  his  impenitence  forever.  He  therefore  nerved 
himself  with  an  almost  desperate  resolve,  and  literally  broke 


480  SAMUEL   C.    ANDEESON. 

through  into  tlie  room,  where  he  took  liis  seat  aiuoiig  the  peni- 
tents. This  decisive  moment  seemed  to  be  the  turning  point 
with  his  soul,  and  he  speedily  found  peace  in  believing.  The 
determination  to  cast  all  sinful  and  Satanic  obstacles  behind 
him,  in  pursuing  those  means  of  grace  which  lie  felt  to  be  ap- 
propriate to  his  wants  and  duty,  was  probably  nothing  else 
than  the  initial  acting  of  faith  and  repentance,  in  embracing 
Christ,  and  his  service:  although  at  ttrst  he  knew  it  not  as  such. 
He  soon  enrolled  himself  among  (fad's  people;  and  sucli  was 
his  Christian  walk,  that  after  a  few  years,  he  was  elected  one 
of  their  elders:  an  office  which  he  tilled  with  increasing  pieiy 
to  his  death. 

His  abilities  and  decision  speedily  made  him  a  num  of 
mark  in  the  Presbyterian  Church.  He  cultivated  an  ardent 
friendship  for  her  leading  ministers,  and  especially  for  Drs. 
Rice  and  Baxter,  whose  steady  coadjutor  and  adviser  he  was, 
in  all  their  labors  for  Zion.  With  his  usual  liberality,  he  now 
set  apart  one-third  of  his  income,  the  whole  of  which  proceed- 
ed from  his  professional  labor,  for  the  service  of  the  church; 
and  during  his  prosperous  years,  this  portion  was  expended  in 
charities,  in  sustaining  the  religious  press,  and  in  other  Chris- 
tian enter{)rises.  besides  the  sums  lavished  in  his  unfailing  hos- 
pitalities. 

The  most  signal  service  wliicli  he  rendered  to  the  church, 
in  the  estimation  >f  the  public  at  large,  was  his  famous  speech 
in  the  Assembly  of  1837.  in  spport  lof  the.  so-called,  excinding 
acts.  Dr.  Baxter  and  he  were  among  the  commissioners  from 
West  Haeover  Presbytery  to  that  body:  in  which  the  fornu-r 
was  the  acknowledged  leader  of  the  old  scliool.  It  was  in  Bax- 
ter's capacious  mind  that  the  plan  originated,  after  all  other 
expedients  seemed  hopeless,  of  ridding  the  church  of  the  incu- 
bus of  the  new  measures  and  theology,  by  declaring  the  Plan 
of  Union  unconstitutional.  During  the  sessions  of  the  Assem- 
bly he  came  to  Mr.  Anderson  and  asked  him  briefly:  ''If  a  leg- 
islative proceeding  be  found  unconstitutional,  what  becomes 
of  the  executive  and  administrative  acts  which  are  grounded 
on  it?"  "They  are  all,''  said  :Mr.  Anderson,  ''null  and  void,  in 
law."  "Then.''  said  Dr.  Baxter,  "prepare  yourself  to  prove  it 
in  the  Assembly.''  The  doctor,  having  explained  his  views  to 
the  old-school  men,  in  their  nightly  convention,    ov     caucus, 


SAMUEL   C.    ANDERSON.  481 

moved  them  the  next  day,  in  the  house,  in  a  short  series  of 
propositions,  whose  logic  was  built  together  like  an  arch  of 
stone;  and  then  remitted  the  discussion  mainly  to  j'ounger  and 
more  forward  men.  The  chief  debater.s  of  the  two  parties  now- 
waged,  for  several  days,  a  forensic  war  of  the  giants.  The  New 
School  relied  up3n  an  elder  from  Pennsylvania,  who  was  also 
a  distinguished  judge  at  law,  to  assail  the  legal  principles  of 
Dr.  Baxters  plan.  Mr.  Anderson  went  to  him,  and  politely 
indicated  his  wish  to  take  part  in  the  discussion  on  the  other 
side,  requesting  the  use  of  the  legal  authorities  introduced  into 
the  ease.  This  the  judge  politely  accorded;  and  it  may  be  added 
that,  in  the  subsequent  discuss'ion,  the  two  maintained  towards 
each  other  a  forensic  courtesy,  by  which  the  acrimony  of  many 
of  the  clergy  was  put  to  shame.  The  judge  also  suggested  that 
^Ir.  Anderson,  if  he  could  succeed  in  getting  the  floor  in  the 
general  eagerness  to  speak,  at  the  end  of  his  speech,  should 
make  the  closing  reply.  The  latter  could  not  but  indulge  an  in- 
ward smile,  as  he  said  to  himself:  ''Had  you  known  the  esti- 
mate of  my  peculiar  forte  held  by  my  legal  brethren  at  home, 
you  would  hardly  have  volunteered  this  proposal."  The  judge, 
with  the  customary  self-esteem  of  his  section,  evidently  regard- 
ed Ms  proposed  antagonist  from  the  South,  as  the  reverse  of 
formidable. 

Meantime,  the  clerical  leaders  of  the  Old  School,  had  laid 
out  their  parliamentary  tactics  for  the  day,  designing  to  put 
up  one  of  their  leading  debaters  to  reply  to  the  legal  argument 
of  the  judge,  and  selecting  an  active  man,  at  the  close  of  that 
speech,  to  spring  to  his  feet,  secure  the  floor,  and  demand  the 
previous  (question.  But  when  the  judge  finished,  to  their  great 
chagrin,  ^Ir.  Anderson  obtained  the  floor,  instead  of  their  cham- 
pion. Their  faces  showed  mortification;  those  of  the  larger 
number  displayed  wonder,  who  this  unknown  combatant  could 
be  who  thus  thrust  himself  into  the  war  of  the  princes;  and 
Dr.  Baxter,  who  knew  his  man,  was  sufl'used  with  a  smile  of 
quiet  enjoyment.  When  ^Ir.  Anderson  found  that  the  Mod- 
erator had  recognized  him,  all  his  self-possession  for  a  moment 
deserted  him:  He,  who  was  perfectly  collected  in  the  stormier 
forums  of  the  bar  and  hustings,  now  found  liimself  without  a 
single  idea,  in  this  novel  arena,  before  the  vast  audience  col- 
lected from  every  part  of  the  Union,  and  especially    at    the 


•J82  SAMUEL   C.    ANDEESON. 

thought  of  the  anxious  aud  sympathizing  countenance  of  his 
'beloved  wife,  which  lie  well  knew,  was  bent  upon  him  from 
some  retired  nook  of  the  galleries.  But  he  said  that  he  be- 
thought himself  to  fill  up  a  minute  with  some  commonplaces 
about  his  respect  for  the  Moderator  and  the  body,  and  his  dif- 
fidence, until  his  self-possessdon  returned  to  him:  and  after  this 
exordium,  he  was  conscious  that  he  had  regained  the  full  poise 
of  all  his  faculties.  As  he  proceeded  in  his  rejoinder,  the  im- 
patience of  the  house  was  replaced  by  surprise,  aud  by  delight. 
Whispers  of.  "Who  is  he?"  "Who  is  he?"  ran  over  the  au- 
dience. He  proceeded,  with  just  such  vigorous  and  courteous 
logic  as  he  was  accustomed  to  employ  in  the  courts  of  Virginia, 
intermingled  with  happy  repartee  and  luxuriant  humor,  to  turn 
the  legal  argument  of  the  Xew  School  inside  out,  to  overthi'ow 
their  pDsitions  \sith  their  own  authorities,  and  to  sweep  away 
their  arguments,  like  the  wind  the  chaff  of  the  threshing  floor. 
It  was  manifest  that  he  was  making  a  profound  impression  on 
the  house,  and  that  his  argument  must  be  decisive  of  the  vote. 
Dr.  Absalom  Peters,  the  Ajax  of  the  New  School,  writhing 
like  a  culprit  upon  the  rack,  at  the  demolition  of  his  cause, 
could  contain  himself  no  longer;  but  springing  to  Ms  feet  in- 
terrupted Mr.  Anderson,  and  announcing  again  a  position  which 
he  seemed  to  regard  as  the  very  citadel  of  his  strength,  said 
tauntingly,  "I  should  like  to  hear  the  gentleman  come  to  that 
topic."  "I  shall  come  to  that  soon  enough  for  you."  replied  he. 
shaking  his  finger  at  him  in  acceptance  3f  his  challenge.  His 
Old  School  friends  almost  held  their  breaths  with  anxiety,  as 
they  said  to  themselves:  "Will  his  performance  be.  indeed, 
able  to  come  up  to  this  audacious  pledge?"  But  wheu.  in  the 
regular  order  of  his  reply,  he  reached  the  favorite  premise  of 
Dr.  Peters,  he  exploded  it  with  a  happy  power,  and  clear  light, 
which  formed  the  climax  of  his  victory,  and  silenced  his  ad- 
versary effectually.  Meantime  he  took  occasion  to  exact  of  Dr. 
Peters  a. good  natured  revenge  for  his  discourtesy.  Seeing  him 
anxiously  fumbling  a  law-book  introduced  by  the  judge,  and 
by  him  promised  to  Mr.  Anderson,  he  reached  his  hand  for  it, 
saying  in  a  sotto-voce  audible  to  the  whole  house:  "Give  it 
me:  raw  hands  ought  not  to  meddle  with  edged  tools."  At  this, 
the  inimitable  humor  of  his  expressive  countenance  convulsed 
the  audience  with  laughter. 


SAMUKL   C.    Af^DERSON.  483 

When  he  closed  his  remarks,  the  person  selected  by  the 
Old  School  to  ask  the  previous  question,  felt  that  no  other  ar- 
gument could  be  so  effective,  and  at  once  performed  his  ap- 
pointed task.  The  house  was  apparently  satisfied  als-o:  the 
call  was  granted,  and  the  majority  which  voted  with  the  Old 
School  showed,  that  Mr.  Anderson  had  decided  every  mind 
which  wavered.  All,  except  Virginians,  were  startled  and 
amazed  at  this  display  of  his  powers.  The  Xorthern  people 
a'bout  the  Assembly,  espec-ialh',  asked  themselves:  How  comes 
it  that  this  great  master  of  debate  has  been  hitherto  unheard 
of  by  us?  They  said,  his  powers,  like  those  of  Pa»llas,  must 
have  sprung  at  one  leap  from  their  infancy  to  their  adult  vigor. 
But  this  was  all  mistaken.  Mr.  Anderson  now  exhibited  no 
other  powers,  than  those  which,  in  his  happier  occasions,  his 
compeers  w^ere  often  accustomed  to  witness  in  him  at  the  bar 
of  Prince  Edward.  In  this  ecclesiastical  debate,  he  had  a  sub- 
ject cuited  to  his  faculties  and  taste:  a  great  principle  of  con- 
stitutional law.  His  mastery  over  it,  and  the  amazing  contrast 
between  his  handling  of  it  and  that  of  his  Northern  adversaries, 
was  but  an  illustration  of  the  superior  civic  culture  prevalent 
among  the  gentlemen  of  Virginia,  and,  ypt  more,  of  their  deep- 
er veneration  for  constitutional  bonds. 

This  interesting  incident  has  been  described  at  this 
length,  only  because  of  its  eclat  without  his  own  circle.  In 
the  Synod  of  Virginia,  he  sustained  the  reforms  of  1837,  with 
equal  eloquence.  For  a  number  of  years,  indeed,  as  long  as 
health  allowed,  he  was  an  interested  and  influential  member 
of  church  courts  in  his  own  State,  and  his  helping  hand  was  in 
every  good  work.  Thus  he  passed  along  for  fifteen  j^ears  more, 
busy  in  his  laborious  profession,  and  frequently  charged  with 
public  trusts  for  church  and  State. 

About  the  year  1852,  his  robust  frame  was  shattered  by 
an  attack  of  paralysis.  For  a  time,  he  lay  motionless,  and  in- 
capable of  speech,  and.  as  others  supposed,  unconscious.  But 
he  said  afterwards,  that  the  sense  of  hearing,  the  powers  of 
thought,  and  the  sensibility  to  pain,  were  even  unnaturally  ac- 
tive: and  at  the  very  moment  that  he  heard  the  anxious  friends 
around  his  bed  congratulating  him  on  this  sad  advantage,  that 
he  was  at  least  insensible  to  suffering,  he  was  enduring  not  only 
bodily  pain,  but  a  wringing  of  the  nerves  unspeakably  more 


484  SAMUEL   0.    ANDERSON. 

agonizing  than  mere  pain.  His  experience  suggests  the  truth, 
which  nurses  and  ministers  of  religion  should  bear  in  mind, 
that  oftentimes  cousciousne:SS  and  the  powers  of  attention  are 
awake  in  the  sick,  where  they  have  the  ability  to  ''give  no  sign." 
Had  the  consolations  of  religion  been  addressed  to  Mr.  Ander- 
son at  that  hour,  he  would  have  appreciated  them  fully,  al- 
though utterly  unable  to  signify  it,  by  voice,  or  motion  of  an 
eyelid,  or  a  muscle.  This  alarming  disease  was,  however,  ar- 
rested, and  by  virtue  of  his  temperance  and  sanity  of  constitu- 
tion, it  left  no  after-consequences,  except  a  tremor  of  the 
hands,  which  gradually  grew  with  the  advances  of  age. 

Mr.  Anderson  at  once  felt  this,  as  a  distinct  summons  to 
"set  his  house  in  order."  He  did  not  demit  any  of  the  active 
duties  of  life;  but  anticipating  some  sudden  return  of  his  mal- 
ady, he  made  his  account  to  die  with  his  harness  on.  Yet  there 
was  a  great  increase  of  the  depth,  tenderness,  and  devotion  of 
his  Christian  character.  He  still  frequented,  as  before,  the  old 
law  office  in  the  corner  of  his  shrubbery,  which  had  for  so  long 
been  the  scene  of  active  bustle,  and  the  haun-t  of  a  throng  of 
clients.  But  his  tremulous  hand  refused  even  to  write  a  legal 
instrument:  aud  the  laborious  duties  of  his  profession  were 
turned  over  to  a  young  kinsman,  who  had  become  his  partner, 
afterwards  known  aud  lamented,  a;s  the  distinguished  Colonel 
John  S.  Thornton.  Those  who  visited  Mr.  Anderson,  in  these 
later  years,  in  his  office,  were  almost  sure  to  find  him  reading 
his  old  quarto  Bible.  This  became  the  constant,  the  almost  ex- 
clusive occupation  of  his  leisure.  Pencil  in  hand,  he  dwelt  de- 
liberately upon  each  clause,  signifying  his  appreciation  of  those 
which  struck  him  as  peculiarly  weighty,  by  a  Toroad  mark 
drawn  underneath.  Going  over  his  Bible  thus,  again  and  again, 
it  gradually  became  'blackened  all  over  with  these  marks,  to  an 
almost  incredible  extent.  This  old  Bible  is  now  treasured  up, 
as  a  curious  aud  affecting  memorial  of  his  diligence  in  the  study 
of  the  Word.  The  maturing  of  grace  in  his  character  was  also 
■most  marked  in  his  prayers,  at  the  domestic  altar,  and  in  the 
prayer  meetings  of  the  church,  which  he  so  much  loved  to  fre- 
quent, as  long  as  his  infirmities  allowed.  His  devotions  were 
peculiar  for  the  profound,  and  yet  triumphant  tone  of  rever- 
ence and  adoration,  and  the  holy  importunity,  which  pervaded 
them  more  and  more.     To  every  spiritually-minded  Christian, 


SAMUEL   C.    ANDERSON.  485 

it  was  a  treat,  a  refreshment,  to  bear  Mr.  Anderson  lead  in 
prayer. 

When  his  infirmities  increased,  a  transaction  occurred  be- 
tween him  and  his  hiw-partner,  Mr.  Thornton,  equally  honorable 
to  both.  He  had  taken  this  young  kinsman  into  his  oflQce  when 
he  was  first  licensed;  and  he  had  rapidly  grown  into  high  favor 
with  the  people.  Mr.  Anderson  now  volunteered  to  declare  to 
him,  that  their  partnership  must  be  dissDlved.  "I  am  but  a 
burden  to  you  now,"  he  added.  "You  do  all  the  work,  and  en- 
dure the  hardships:  you  are  virtually  supporting  my  family,  as 
well  as  your  own:  and  it  is  not  just  that  I  should  allow  you  to 
burden  yourself  with  such  an  incubus,  in  your  ascending  career. 
You  must  set  up  f3r  yourself,  so  as  to  advance  unimpeded  by 
me."  When  Mr.  Anderson  proposed  this,  he  well  knew  that 
its  execution  would  consign  him  almost  to  penury:  for  his  gen- 
erous and  almost  profuse  spirit  had  left  him  no  accumulations 
from  his  years  of  arduous  labar.  But  'Sh\  Thornton  positively 
refused  to  accede  to  the  dissolution  of  the  partnership;  urging 
that  ^Ir.  Anderson's  present  enjoyment  of  the  moiety  of  the 
earnings  of  the  firm  was  but  a  just  return  for  his  princely  gen- 
erosity, in  according  to  him  the  same  share,  at  the  'beginning; 
when  he  was  but  a  stripling,  withDut  professional  patronage 
or  experience;  and  that,  if  Mr.  Anderson  no  longer  did  his  half 
of  the  riding,  writing,  and  speaking,  yet  his  wisdom  in  counsel, 
and  his  moral  weight,  were  still  richly  worth  their  pay.  In; 
this  generous  strife,  both  seemed  for  a  time  equally  obstinate; 
but  at  last  the  dbstinacy  of  Thornton  prevailed;  and  amidst  Mr. 
Anderson's  growing  iurtruiities.  the  partnership  continued,  un- 
til the  approach  of  the  war  indicated  that  the  former  was  to  be 
called  to  other  scenes  of  usefulness. 

In  this  great  cnutest  for  rlir  ind(^i)endence  of  ^'irginia,  ^Ir. 
Anderson  was  a  consistent  and  ardent  supporter  of  his  native 
State.  Just  in  proportion  tj  his  piety,  ripening  for  heaven,  was 
the  clearness  and  steadfastness  of  his  devotion  to  the  great  con- 
stitutional rights,  which,  he  believed,  were  about  to  be  over- 
thrown. His  embarrassed  affairs  and  growing  decrepitude  left 
him  little  else  that  he  could  do  for  his  country,  except  to  coun- 
sel, to  pray,  and  to  suffer.  Most  no'bly  did  he  do  all  these;  and 
especially  the  latter.  To  his  friends,  it  was  one  of  the  most 
touching  incidents  of  the  calamities  of  the  country,  to  see  such 


480  SAMUEL    C     ANDERSON. 

a  man,  whose  liberal  hand  had  solaced  so  many,  reduced,  by 
the  depreciation  of  the  currency,  and  other  difficulties  of  the 
time,  to  the  verge  of  want.  But  he  bore  every  privation  with 
a  cheerful,  modest  dignity,  beautiful  to  behold,  and  instructive 
to  all  younger  men.  Always  hopeful,  ever  courageous,  he  was 
a  stay  and  stimulus  to  all  whom  he  met ;  and  when  he  crept  out 
to  the  Court  House  hard  by,  leaning  on  his  staff,  to  speak  a 
word  of  cheer  to  the  people,  and  leave  his  benediction  with 
them,  the  fire  of  better  years  was  rekindled  in  his  eye,  and  the 
old  walls  recognized  again  the  sonorous  echo  of  that  voice, 
which  was  wont  to  peal  there,  when  the  lion  of  the  ibar  had 
trodden  his  stage,  and  shaken  his  kingly  mane  at  the  enemies 
of  country  and  right,  in  the  days  of  his  strength.  But  that 
mane  was  now  white  as  the  snows  of  the  hoary  Alps;  and  the 
tread  of  his  stalwart  lim'bs  was  slower  and  slower.  His  orb 
was  steadily  approaching  its  western  horizon,  serenely,  and 
brightly,  despite  the  war-clouds  whose  angry  and  thickening 
folds  had  usurped  the  place  of  that  peaceful,  glowing  sunset, 
which  we  would  have  desired  to  close  the  evening  of  such  a 
career  as  his.  Then  came  suddenly,  the  fall  of  his  country;  and 
at  that  blow,  his  spirit  said,  "It  is  enough,"  and  sank  instantly 
to  its  rest:  to  rise  again  in  the  eternal  heavens. 

On  the  night  of  Sunday,  April  2nd,  General  Lee  silently 
evacuated  Richmond  and  Petersburg,  and  began  his  arduous 
and  doubtful  retreat  towards  the  waters  of  the  Roanoke.  Mr. 
Anderson  heard  even  this  appalling  news,  with  a  steadfast 
heart:  he  still  refused  to  despair  of  the  Republic:  and  in  the 
immediate  jirospect  of  passing,  witli  liis  lionu^  and  family,  into 
the  lines  of  the  enemy,  his  spirit  was  as  unshaken  and  composed 
as  ever.  The  morning  of  Friday,  the  7th,  tlie  quiet  village  was 
overwhelmed  by  the  sudden  irruption  of  the  Federal  cavalry, 
who,  in  an  instant,  spread  themselves  everywhere,  plundering 
and  ravaging.  Mr.  Anderson  was  arrested,  and  led  across  the 
street  before  one  of  their  generals,  who  attempted  to  carry  him 
through  a  harsh  and  unfeeling  catechism  concerning  the  move- 
ments of  the  retreating  Confederates,  and  the  routes  of  the 
country.  He  answered,  with  quiet  dignity,  that  if  they  would 
observe  him,  his  obvious  infirmities,  at  least,  would  show  them 
a  reason  why  such  information  should  not  be  demanded  of  him. 
Brutality  itself  could  find  no  pretext  to  harrass  such  a  victim, 


SAMUEL   C     ANDERSON.  487 

and  be  was  coldly  dismissed.  He  returned  to  his  dwelling  to 
find  it  filled  from  garret  to  cellar,  with  a  rabble  of  troopers, 
defiling  and  pilfering  everything  with  their  unclean  hands. 
Seeing  that  corporeal  resistance  was  simply  mad,  and  that 
there  was  no  spark  of  principle  or  compunction  in  such  breasts, 
to  which  to  appeal,  he  judged  that  his  self-respect  would  be 
best  consulted  by  perfect  quiet.  Where  a  righteous  defense  was 
impossible,  he  disdained  to  complain.  But  the  insult,  the  un- 
utterable indignation,  were  too  much  for  his  tottering  frame. 
He  was  soon  no  longer  able  to  direct  his  steps,  and  betook  him- 
self to  his  bed.  Here  he  la}',  with  a  quiet  spirit,  engaged  in 
silent  prayer,  receiving  the  cares  of  his  beloved  wife  and  sis- 
ter with  a  tender  and  gushing  thankfulness,  still  bidding  them 
to  be  of  good  courage  in  their  God.  The  neighborhood  was  so 
filled,  and  every  house  so  beset,  during  all  these  days,  with 
plunderers,  that  it  was  almost  impossible  for  the  few  males  out 
of  the  army,  to  leave  their  owm  doors,  to  render  the  common 
offices  of  humanity  to  a  neighbor.  But  the  chivalrous  women 
braved  every  inconvenience,  and  gave  the  needed  assistance.  On 
the  next  Tuesday,  the  news  of  General  Lee's  final  surrender 
was  brought  to  Mr.  Anderson.  This  was,  literally,  the  final 
blow  to  his  feeble  body.  Thenceforward,  the  expectation  and 
the  desire  of  life  were  extinguished — he  calmly  said:  "It  is  the 
Lord;  let  him  do  what  seemeth  to  him  good";  and,  "Now  lettest 
thou  thy  servant  depart  in  peace."  Yes.  in  peace!  although  the 
ruins  of  a  fallen  country  were  crashing  around  his  dying  bed. 
Thus,  on  Tuesday,  the  18th  of  April,  he  calmly  and  devoutly 
committed  his  soul  to  God.  gave  up  the  ghost,  and  was  gathered 
unto  his  fathers. 

A  few  days  after  (it  was  the  very  day  that  the  pompous 
obsequies  of  Lincoln,  and  the  popular  phreusy  were  filling 
Washington  City  with  tumult);  a  handful  of  his  neighbors,  with 
the  pastors  and  elders,  sadly  and  silently  conveyed  his  venera- 
ble remains  to  their  ri^sting  placr  at  the  (V)lh'ge  Church.  In 
peaceful  times,  his  fellow  citizens  would  have  delighted  to  hon- 
or him  with  such  a  funeral  cortege  as  country  places  had  rarely 
witnessed.  Now,  there  was  none;  the  people  had  just  been 
robbed  of  every  "beast  of  burden;  and  the  young  men  were  eith- 
er in  bloody  graves,  or  in  captivity,  or  fleeing  before  their  ene- 
mies.   But  it  is  sufficient  consolation  to  know,  that  the  song 


488  SAMUEL   C.    ANDEKSON. 

of  the  angels  was  not  therefore  the  less  rapturous,  as  his  ran- 
somed spirit  entered  heaven's  gates:  and  that  the  hallowed  dust 
sleeps  none  the  less  safelv  in  the  Redeemer's  keeping,  until  the 
resurrection. 

To  human  apprehension,  it  would  liaA'e  been  happy  for  Mr. 
Anderson  to  live  until  the  deliverance  of  the  eountrv  he  Loved 
so  ardently  was  accomplished:  and  to  render  up  his  rejoicing 
spirit  to  (rod  amidst  peaceful  liberty.  But  seeing  it  has  been 
determined  by  his  sovereign  and  awful  Providence,  that  Vir- 
ginia should  submit  to  bondage,  the  time  of  our  friend's  de- 
jtarture  was  most  excellently  chosen.  He  went  away  to  the 
mightly  dead  with  the  vanishing  glories  of  his  country.  The 
great  Deliverer  stepped  in,  and  with  his  impemal  sceptre,  for- 
bade that  any  bonds  should  alight  upon  his  free  spirit.  He 
had  ever  lived  a  freeman;  and  now  he  was  forever  enfranchised 
by  death.  How  much  are  they  to  be  envied,  who  having  been 
made  meet  for  "the  inheritance  of  the  saints  in  light,''  are  per- 
mitted thus  to  receive  the  fulfillment  of  the  i»rayer  of  Jackson: 
''that  we  may  not  be  required  to  survive  the  independence  of 
our  country.'' 

When  the  convulsions  of  the  times  permitted  it,  the  most 
honorable  testimonials  to  his  memory  were  adopted  by  the  Ses- 
sion of  his  church,  the  court  and  bar  of  Prince  P^dward  county, 
and  the  other  public  bodies  with  which  he  had  been  connected. 


WOMEN'S  RIGHTS  WOMEN.' 


In  oui-  day,  innovations  mareli  with  so  rapid  a  stride  tliat 
they  qnite  take  away  one's  breath.  The  fantastical  project  of 
yesterday,  which  was  mentioned  only  to  be  ridiculed,  is  to-day 
the  audacious  reform,  and  will  be  ta-niorrow  the  accomplished 
fact.  Such  has  been  the  history  of  the  agitation  for  ''women's 
rights,"  as  they  are  sophistically  called  in  this  country.  A  few 
3'ears  ago  this  movement  was  the  especial  hobby  of  a  few  old 
women  of  both  sexes,  who  made  themselves  the  laughing-stock 
of  all  sane  people  by  the  annual  ventilation  of  their  crotchet. 
Their  only  recruits  were  a  few  of  the  unfortunates  whom  nature 
or  fortune  had  debarred  from  tliDse  triumphs  and  enjoyments 
which  are  the  natural  ambition  of  the  sex,  and  wlio  adopted 
this  agitation  as  the  most  feasible  mode  of  expressing  their 
spitefulness  against  the  successful  competitors.  To-day  the 
movement  has  assumed  such  dimensions  that  it  challenges  the 
attention  of  every  thoughtful  mind. 

If  we  understand  the  claims  of  the  Women's  Rights  wom- 
en, they  are  in  substance  two:  that  the  legislation,  at  least,  of 
society  shall  disregard  all  the  natural  distinctions  of  the  sexes, 
and  award  the  same  specific  rights  and  franchises  to  both  in 
every  respect;  and  that  woman  while  in  the  married  state  shall 
be  released  from  every  species  of  conjugal  subordination.  The 
assimilation  of  the  garments  of  the  two  sexes,  their  competition 
in  the  same  industries  and  professions,  and  their  common  ac- 
cess to  the  same  amusements  and  recreations,  are  social  changes 
which  the  "strong-minded''  expect  to  work,  each  one  for  her- 
self, when  once  the  obstructions  of  law  are  removed  from  the 
other  points. 

One  result  of  the  reflection  which  we  have  been  able  to 
give  this  movement,  is  the  conviction  that  it  will  prevail  in  the 
so-called  ''I'nited  States."  This  is  foreshadowed  ^j  the  frantic 
lust  for  innovation  which  has  seized  the  body  of  the  people  like 

1 From  The  Southern  Magazine.  489 


490  women's  rights  women. 

an  epidemic.  It  is  enough  with  them  to  condemn  any  institu- 
tion, that  it  was  bequeathed  us  by  our  forefathers;  because  it 
is  not  tile  invention  of  this  age.  it  is  wrong,  of  course.  In  their 
eyes  no  experience  proves  anything,  save  the  experience  which 
they  have  had  themselves.  They  do  not  suppose  that  our  fathers 
were  wise  enough  to  interpret  and  record  the  lessons  of  former 
experiences.  That  certain  things  did  not  succeed  in  our  fore- 
fathers' hands  is  no  proof  that  they  will  not  succeed  in  ouri 
hands;  for  we  are  "cute."  v^e  live  in  an  enlightened  age.  and  un- 
derstand how  to  manage  things  successfully.  The  philosophy  of 
the  Yankee  mind  is  precisely  that  of  the  Yankee  girl  who,  when 
she  asked  for  leave  to  marry  at  seventeen,  was  dissuaded  by  her 
mother  that  she  ''had  married  very  early  and  had  seen  the  folly 
of  it."  "Yes;  but.  Mamma."  replied  the  daughter,  "I  want  to 
see  the  folly  of  it  far  myself."  Your  Yankee  philosopher  is 
too  self-sufficient  to  be  cautioned  from  the  past.  He  does  not 
know  history;  he  would  not  believe  its  conclusions  if  he  did; 
he  has  no  use  for  its  lights,  hiiving  enough  "subjective''  light 
of  his  own.  To  such  a  people  the  fact  that  a  given  experiment 
is  too  absurd  to  have  been  ever  tried  before,  is  an  irresistible 
fascination:  it  is  a  chance  not  to  be  neglected. 

The  symptoms  of  approaching  success  which  already  ex- 
ist are  such  as  may  well  cheer  the  advocates  of  the  new  revo- 
lution. They  who  a  few  years  ago  counted  their  adherents  by 
scores,  now  have  tens  of  thousands.  They  are  represented  by 
their  own  press.  They  have  received  the  support  of  at  least 
one  religious  journal,  which  presumes  to  call  itself  Christian 
and  is  the  organ  of  a  numerous  denomination — the  Ne7v  York 
Independent.  They  receive  the  obsequious  homage  of  the  dema- 
gogues of  the  day.  They  have  already  engrafted  a  part  of  their 
ideas  upon  some  ?>tate  constitutions.  Their  apostles  are  in- 
vited to  lecture  before  "Christian  Associations"  (of  that  peculiar 
kind  which  enumerate  billiard  and  card-tables  among  the  means 
of  grace),  and  before  the  United  States  Congress.  And  last,  a 
kindred  cause,  that  of  indiscriminate  divorces,  is  making  such 
progress  in  many  of  the  States  that  it  will  soon  be  able  to  lend 
a  strong  helping-hand  to  its  sister.  Now  it  is  by  just  such  steps 
that  Radicalism  grew  from  its  despised  infancy  in  this  country. 
It  was  just  thus  that  Abolitionism  grew.     It  is  thus  that  all 


women's  rights  women.  491 

things  grow  on  the  American  soil  which  ripen  tlieir  harvests  of 
exil. 

The  advocates  of  these  "women's  rights"  may  be  expected 
to  win  the  day,  because  the  premises  from  which  they  argue 
their  revolution  have  been  irrevocably  admitted  by  the  bulk  of 
the  people.  Now  this  popular  mind  may  not  be  consciously  or 
intentionally  consistent  and  logical.  It  may  jump  to  many  con- 
clusions without  much  analysis  of  the  steps  by  which  they  are 
reached.  It  may  deliberately  harbor  the  most  express  purpose 
to  be  guilty  of  any  logical  inconsistency,  however  outrageous,  in 
pursuing  its  supposed  interests ;  and  may  have  its  mind  ever  so 
clearly  made  up  to  eat  its  own  words  and  principles  whenever 
its  convenience  prompts  that  measure.  But  still  the  Creator 
has  made  man,  in  spite  of  himself,  a  logical  animal;  and  conse- 
quences will  work  themselves  out,  whether  he  designs  it  or 
not,  to  those  results  which  the  premises  dictate.  History  will 
write  out  the  corollaries  of  the  theorems  whether  the  projec- 
tors wish  to  stop  for  them  or  not.  Now,  false  principles  are  al- 
ready firmly  planted  from  which  the  whole  "Women's  Rights"' 
claim  must  follow.  If  we  look  at  the  coarser,  more  concrete, 
and  popular  fonn  in  which  the  consequence  is  drawn,  we  find 
the  argument  for  the  popular.  Radical  mind  perfectly  unan- 
swerable. "It  has  been  decided  that  all  negro  men  have  a  right 
to  vote:  is  n<jt  a  Yankee  white  woman  with  her  'smartness'  and 
education  as  good  as  a  stupid,  ignorant,  Southern  black?"  We 
should  like  to  see  the  answer  to  that  logic  from  that  premise 
which  a  Northern  Radical  mind  could  be  made  to  appreciate. 
An  unanswera'ble  point  thus  perpetually  made  upon  the  mind 
of  the  public,  will  impinge  at  last. 

Or  if  we  examine  the  argument  in  its  more  exact  and  logi- 
cal form,  we  shall  find  it,  after  the  established  (false)  premises 
are  granted,  equally  conclusive  for  the  educated.  The  very 
axioms  of  American  politics  now  are,  that  "all  men  are  by  na- 
ture equal,"  that  all  are  inalienably  "entitled  to  liberty  and  the 
pursuit  of  happiness,"  and  that  "the  only  just  foundation  of 
governinient  is  in  the  consent  of  the  governed."  There  was  a 
sense  in  which  our  fathers  propounded  these  statements;  but 
it  is  not  the  one  in  which  they  are  now  held  by  Americans.  Our 
recent  doctors  of  political  science  have  retained  these  formu 
laries  of  words  as  convenient  masks  under  which  to  circulate  u 


492  women's  rights  women. 

set  of  totally  different,  and  indeed  antagonistic  notions;  and 
they  liaA'e  succeeded  perfectly.  The  new  meanings  of  which  the 
"Whigs"  of  1776  never  dreamed  are  now  the  current  ones.  Those 
wise  statesmen  meant  to  teach  that  all  men  are  morally  equal 
in  the  sense  of  the  Grolden  Rule:  that  while  individual  traits, 
rights,  and  duties  vary  widely  in  the  different  orders  of  politi- 
cal society,  these  different  rights  all  have  some  moral  basis; 
that  the  inferior  has  the  same  moral  title  (that  of  a  common  hu- 
manity and  co-mmon  relation  to  a  benignant  Heavenly  Father) 
to  have  his  rights — the  rights  of  an  inferior — duly  respected, 
whicli  ilic  superior  has  to  claim  that  his  very  different  rights 
shall  be  res])eeted.  The  modern  version  is  that  there  are  no 
superiors  or  inferiors  in  society;  that  there  is  a  mechanical 
equality;  that  all  have  specifically  all  the  same  rights;  and  that 
any  other  constitution  is  against  natural  justice.  Next:  when 
our  wise  fathers  said  that  liberty  is  an  inalienable,  natural 
right,  they  meant  by  each  one's  liberty  the  privilege  to  do  such 
things  as  he,  with  his  particular  relations,  ought  to  have  a  mor- 
al title  to  do;  the  particular  things  having  righteous,  natural 
limitations  in  every  case,  and  much  narrower  limits  in  some 
cases  than  in  olliers.  Radical  .Vmerica  now  means  by  natural 
liberty  each  one's  privilege  to  do  what  he  chooses  to  do.  By  the 
consent  of  the  governed  our  forefathers  meant  each  Sovereign 
Commonwealth's  consenting  to  the  constitution  under  which  it 
should  be  governed:  they  meant  that  it  was  unjust  for  Britain 
to  govern  America  without  America's  consent.  Which  part  of 
the  human  'beings  living  in  a  given  American  State  should  con- 
stitute the  State  })otentially,  the  populus  whose  franchise  it  was 
to  express  the  will  of  the  commonwealth  for  all — that  was  in 
their  eyes  wholly  another  question,  to  be  wisely  decided  in  dif- 
ferent States  according  to  the  structure  which  Providence  had 
given  them.  By  "the  consent  of  the  governed''  it  would  appear 
that  Radicalism  means  it  is  entirely  just  for  Yankeedom  to  gov- 
ern Virginia  against  Virginia's  consent,  and  that  it  is  not  just 
to  govern  any  individnal  human  being  without  letting  him 
vote  for  his  governors.  The  utter  inconsistency  of  the  two  parts 
of  this  creed  is  not  ours  to  reconcile.  It  is  certain  that  both 
parts  (consistent  or  not)  are  firmly  held  as  the  American  creed. 
The  version  given  to  the  maxim  as  to  individual  rights  is  uni- 
versally this:  that  natural  justice  requires  that  suffrage  shall 


women's  rights  women,  493 

be  coextensive  with  allegiance,  except  where  the  right  has  been 
forfeited  by  some  crime  (such  as  that  which  the  men  of  18G1 
oommitted  in  presuming  to  act  on  the  principles  of  the  men  of 
1776).  To  these  errors  the  American  people  are  too  deepl}-  com- 
mitted to  evade  any  of  their  logical  applications.  For  the  sake 
of  these  dogmas  they  have  destroyed  one  Federal  and  eleven 
other  State  constitutions,  have  committed  a  lialf  anillion  of  mur- 
ders, and  (dearest  of  all)  have  spent  some  seven  thousand  mil- 
lions of  dollars.  Repudiate  these  maxims  now!  Never!  This 
would  be  to  dishonor  the  ghosts  of  all  the  slaughtered  Union- 
Savers,  to  shame  the  sacrifices  of  all  the  "Trooly  Lo'll"  during 
the  glorious  four  years,  to  dim  the  very  crown  of  martyrdom 
upon  the  brow  of  the  ''late  lamented,"  and  worst  of  all,  to  out- 
rage the  manes  of  all  those  departed  dollars. 

Now  then,  when  Mistress  Amaaona  Narragansett  steps  for- 
ward, and  having  vindicated  her  claim  to  have  belonged  always 
to  the  true  Israel  of  the  "Unconditional  Unianists,"  demands  a 
simple  and  obvious  application  of  these  honored  maxims  to  her 
own  case,  how  can  she  be  gainsaid?  Hitherto  the  State  has 
governed  her  without  asking  her  consent  at  the  ballot-b:)x.  This 
is  self-evidently  against  the  immortal  truth  that  "all  just  gov- 
ernment is  founded  on  the  consent  of  the  governed.''  The  State 
has  restrained  her  natural  liberty  of  doing  as  she  chose,  com- 
pelling her  to  pay  a  great  many  dollars  in  taxes  which  she 
would  rather  have  chosen  to  expend  in  crinoline,  and  forbidding 
her  to  do  a  great  many  other  little  acts,  such  as  bigamy,  etc., 
which  might  have  been  her  preference  (and  therefore  her  na- 
tural right);  and  all  this  without  even  saving  the  State's  credit 
and  manners  by  asking  her  consent  at  the  polls  to  the  laws 
made  for  her.  And  last:  the  State  has  committed  the  crowning- 
outrage  and  inconsistency  of  not  letting  her  be  a  man  because 
God  made  her  a  woman!  What  an  outrage  this  to  be  commit- 
ted on  so  frivolous  a  pretext!  Be  consoled,  Mistress  Amazona ; 
it  is  simply  impossible  that  such  abuses  can  stand  much  long- 
er in  the  full  light  of  this  reforming  age.  "The  scho'ol-mistress 
is  abroad.''  That  mighty  tide  of  progress  which  has  already 
swept  away  the  Constitution,  and  slavery,  and  State's  rights, 
and  the  force  of  contracts  public  and  private,  witli  all  such  rub- 
bish, will  soon  dissolve  your  grievance  also.  Has  not  the  Radi- 
cal version  of  the  political  gospel  said,  "All  men  are  by  nature 


494  WOME]N"*S    RIGHTS    WOMEIf. 

mechanicallj  equal?"  And  "man,"  Mistress  Amazona  (as  jou 
will  know  when  you  acquire  the  virile  right  of  learning  Latin) 
here  means,  not  vir,  but  home;  the  species  irrespective  of  sex. 
It  means  that  a  woman  has  a  natural  right  to  do  all  the  particu- 
lar things  that  a  man  does  {if  she  can),  to  sit  on  juries  and 
shave  her  beard,  to  serve  in  the  army  and  ride  astraddle,  to 
preach  sermons  and  sing  bass. 

But  seriously:  a  woman  is  a  human  being,  and  a  grown 
woman  is  an  adult.  She  is  treated,  and  must  be  treated,  by  all 
governments  as  a  citizen  owing  allegiance  and  subject  to  law. 
On  those  principles,  which  are  the  first  principles  of  Radical- 
ism, it  is  impossible  to  deny  her  right  to  vote  and  to  participate 
in  all  the  franchises  of  men.  Her  exclusion  is  a  glaring  in- 
stance of  "class  legislation" — that  odious  thing  which  Radical- 
ism so  strongly  condemns  as  contrary  to  equality.  To  subject 
women  to  these  disabilities  is  even  a  more  glaring  injustice  than 
was  the  exclusion  of  the  negro  from  American  citizenship  be- 
cause he  was  '^guilty  of  a  skin";  for  here  the  exclusion  from 
natural  rights  is  grounded  on  the  sole  fact  that  woman  is  "guil- 
ty of  a  sex."  And  especially  are  all  those  laws  unnatural  and 
inexcusable  iniquities  which  subject  the  person  or  property  of 
the  wife  to  any  marital  authority.  What  is  such  marriage  but 
a  species  of  (white)  domestic  slavery?  Nor  is  it  any  excuse  to 
say  that  in  America  no  woman  enters  the  married  state  save 
at  her  own  option;  for  to  that  state  the  most  commanding  in- 
stincts of  woman's  being  impel  her;  and  it  is  but  a  mocking 
tyranny  to  impose  this  slavery  on  the  married  state  of  woman, 
and  tell  her  then  that  she  need  not  submit  to  the  yoke  if  she 
chooses  to  avoid  it  by  sacrificing  the  chief  instincts  of  her  be- 
ing. Why,  it  ma}'  be  even  said  to  the  galley-slave  that  he  need 
not  be  a  slave,  provided  he  is  willing  to  disregard  that  other 
primal  instinct,  the  love  of  life:  suicide  will  set  him  free! 

Such  is  the  logic  of  the  Women's  Rights  party,  from  Radi- 
cal premises.  Its  prospect  of  triumph  is  greatly  increased  by 
this,  that  its  Northern  opponents  (the  only  ones  who  have  any 
power  to  oppose)  have  disabled  themselves  from  meeting  it  by 
their  furious  Abolitionism.  The  premises  of  that  doctrine,  to 
which  they  are  so  irrevocably  committed,  now  shut  their 
mouths.  It  is  vain  for  the  rabid  negrophilist.  Dr.  Horace  Bush- 
nell,  to  write  a  book  at  this  date  against  Women's  Rights  as  the 


women's  rights  women.  405 

"Reform  against  Nature."  He  cannot  consistently  oppose  it; 
he  has  himself  naturalized  the  false  principles  from  which  that 
''reform"  will  flow.  The  true  principles  from  which  its  folly 
might  have  been  evinced,  the  principles  held  by  us  "Kebels,"  he 
has  trampled  down  with  the  armed  lieel,  and  drowned  in  blood 
and  buried  under  mountains  of  obloquy  and  odium  and  slander. 
He  cannot  resort  to  those  sound  premises.  To  meet  the  argu- 
ment of  these  aspiring  Amazons  fairly,  one  must  teach,  with 
Moses,  the  Apostle  Paul,  John  Hampden,  Washington,  George 
Mason,  John  C.  Calhoun,  and  all  that  contemptible  rabble  of 
"old  fogies,"  that  political  society  is  composed  of  "superiors, 
inferiors,  and  equals";  that  while  all  these  bear  an  equitable 
moral  relation  to  each  other,  they  have  very  different  natural 
rights  and  duties;  that  just  government  is  not  founded  on  the 
consent  of  the  individuals  governed,  but  on  tlie  ordinance  of 
God,  and  hence  a  share  in  the  ruling  franchise  is  not  a  natural 
right,  at  all,  but  a  privilege  to  be  bestowed  according  to  a  wise 
discretion  on  a  limited  class  having  qualification  to  use  it  for 
the  good  of  the  whole;  that  the  integers  out  of  which  the  State 
is  constituted  are  not  individuals,  but  families  represented  in 
their  parental  heads;  that  every  human  being  is  born  under 
authority  (parental  and  civic)  instead  of  being  born  "free"  in 
the  licentious  sense  that  liberty  is  each  one's  privilege  of  doing 
what  he  chooses;  that  subordination,  and  not  that  license,  is  the 
natural  state  of  all  men;  and  that  without  such  equitable  dis- 
tribution of  different  duties  and  rights  among  the  classes  na- 
turally differing  in  condition,  and  subordination  of  some  to  oth- 
ers, and  of  all  to  the  law,  society  is  as  impossible  as  is  the  ex- 
istence of  a  house  without  distinction  between  the  foundation- 
stone  and  the  cap-stones.  No  words  are  needed  to  show  hence 
that  should  either  the  voice  of  God  or  of  sound  experience  re- 
quire woman  to  be  placed  for  the  good  of  the  whole  society  in  a 
subordinate  sphere,  there  can  be  no  natural  injustice  in  doing 
so.  But  these  old  truths,  with  their  sound  and  beneficent  ap- 
plications, have  'been  scornfully  repudiated  by  Abolitionism 
and  Radicalism.  The  North  cannot,  w*ill  not,  avow  and  appeal 
to  them,  because  that  would  be  to  confess  that  the  injured  Soutli 
was  all  the  time  right  in  its  opposition  to  Abolition;  and  tlic 
conquerors  will  rather  let  all  perish  than  rhus  liuinl)]o  Ihoir 
pride  to  the  poor  conquered  victims. 


496  women's  rights  women. 

It  may  be  inferred  again  that  tlie  present  movement  for 
women's  nghts  will  certainly  prevail  from  the  history  af  its 
only  opponent.  Northern  conservatism.    This  is  a  party  which 
never  conserves  anything.    Its  history  has  been  that  it  demurs 
to  each  aggression  of  the  progressive  party,  and  aims  to  save 
its  credit  by  a  respectable  amount  of  growling,  but  always  ac- 
quiesces at  last  in  the  innovation.    What  was  the  resisted  nov- 
elty of  jesterday  is  to-day  one  of  the  accejjted  principles  of  con 
servatism;  it  is  now  conservative  only  in  affecting  to  resist  the 
next  innovation,  which  will  to-morrow  be  forced  upon  its  timid- 
ity, and  will  be  succeeded  by  some  third  revDlution.  to  be  de- 
nounced and  then  adopted  in  its  turn.    American  conservatism 
is  merely  the  shadow  that  follows  Radicalism  as  it  movers  for- 
ward towards  perdition.     It  remains  behind  it.  but  never  re- 
tards it,  and  always  advances  near  its  leader.     This  pretended 
salt  hath  utterly  lost  its  savor:  wherewith  shall  it  be  salted?    Its 
impotency  is  not  hard,  indeed,  to  explain.     It  is  worthless  be- 
cause it  is  the  conservatism  of  expediency  only,  and  not  of 
sturdy  principle.    It  intends  to  risk  nothing  serious  for  the  sake 
of  the  truth,  and  has  no  idea  of  'being  guilty  of  the  folly  of 
martyrdom.     It  always — when  about  to  enter  a  protest — ver3' 
iblandily  informs  the  wild  beast  whose  path  it  essays  to  stoj), 
that  its  "bark  is  worse  than  its  bite,"  and  that  it  only  means  to 
save  its  manners  by  enacting  its  decent  role  of  resistance.    The 
only  practical   purpose  which  it  now  subserves  in  American 
politics  is  to  give  enough  exercise  to  Kadicalism  to  keep  it  "in 
wind,"  and  to  prevent  its  becoming  pursy  and  lazy  from  hav- 
ing nothing  to  whip.    No  doubt,  after  a  few  years,  when  wom- 
en's suft'rage  shall  have  become  an  accomplished  fact,  conserva- 
tism will  tacitly  admit  it  into  its  creed,     and     thenceforward 
plume  itself  upon  its  wise  firmness  in  opposing  with  similar 
weapons  the  extreme  of  baby  suffrage;  and  when  that  too  shall 
have  been  won,  it  will  be  heard  d-eclaring  that  the  integrity  of 
the  American  Constitution  requires  at  least  the  refusal  of  suff- 
rage to  asses.    There  it  will  assume,  with  great  dignity,  its  final 
jK)sition. 

Indeed,  as  De  Tocqueville  predicted,  innovations  in  the 
direction  of  extensions  of  suffrage  will  always  be  successful  in 
America,  because  of  the  selfish  timidity  of  her  public  men.  It 
is  the  nature  of  ultra  democracy  to  make  all  its  politicians  time- 


women's  rights  women.  497 

servers;  its  natural  spawn  is  the  brood  of  narrow,  truckling-, 
cowardly  worshippers  of  the  vox  populi,  and  of  present  expe- 
diency. Their  p3lar  star  is  always  found  in  the  answer  to  the 
question,  "Which  will  be  the  more  popular?"  As  soon  as  any 
agitation  of  this  kind  goes  far  enough  to  indicate  a  possibility 
of  success,  their  resistance  ends.  Each  of  them  begins  to  argue 
thus  in  his  private  mind: — "The  proposed  revolution  is  of  course 
preposterous,  but  it  will  ibe  best  for  me  to  leave  opposition  to 
it  to  others.  For  if  it  succeeds,  the  newly  enfranchised  will  not 
fail  to  remember  the  opponents  of  their  claim  at  future  elec- 
tions, and  to  reward  those  who  were  their  friends  in  the  hour 
of  need."  Again:  it  lias  now  become  a  regular  trick  of  Ameri- 
can demagogues  in  power  to  manufacture  new  classes  of  voters 
to  sustain  them  in  office.  It  is  presumed  that  the  gratitude  of 
the  newly  enfranchised  will  be  sufficient  to  make  them  vote  the 
ticket  of  their  benefactors.  But  as  gratitude  is  a  very  flimsy 
sort  of  fabric  among  Radicals,  and  soon  worn  threadbare,  such 
a  reliance  only  lasts  a  short  time,  and  requires  to  be  speedily 
replaced.  The  marvelous  invention  of  negro  suffrage  (excogi- 
tated for  this  sole  purpose)  sufficed  to  give  Radicalism  a  new- 
four  3'ears'  lease  of  life;  but  the  grateful  allegiance  of  the  freed- 
nien  to  their  pretended  liberators  is  waxing  very  thin;  and 
hence  the  same  expedient  must  be  repeated,  in  the  form  of  cre- 
ating a  few  millions  of  female  votes.  The  designing  have  an 
active,  selfish  motive  for  pushing  the  measure;  but  its  oppon- 
ents will  without  fail  be  paralyzed  in  their  resistance  by  their 
wonted  cowardice;  so  that  success  is  sure. 

This  expectation  is  greatly  confirmed  by  a  review  of  the 
history  of  past  innovations.  They  have  all  been  carried  against 
the  'better  judgment  of  the  class  in  the  country  to  whom  the 
Constitution  committed  the  power  of  deciding  for  or  against 
them.  In  1829-183(1,  tlic  State  of  Virginia  took  her  first  de- 
parture from  the  old  princii)le  of  freeholders'  suffrage.  In  1851 
she  com])leted  that  revolution  (as  well  as  introduced  sundrj^ 
other  Radical  features)  by  extending  the  right  to  vote  indis- 
criminately to  all  white  males.  In  both  instances  it  was  hard 
to  find  a  freeholder,  not  a  demagogue,  who  could  avow  a  hearty 
preference  for  the  changes.  They  were  carried  against  the  con- 
victions of  the  voters  by  the  influences  which  have  been  above 
described.    It  is  most  probable  that  the  same  thing  was  true  in 


498  women's  rights  women. 

every  State  which  adopted  universal  suffrage.  The  coercive 
measures  of  the  Federal  Government  were  undoubtedly  pre- 
cipitated against  the  convictions  of  the  majority  of  the  Northern 
people.  So  the  war  was  transmuted  into  an  Abolition  measure 
under  the  same  circumstances.  And  last:  negro  suffrage  was 
undoubtedly  introduced  against  the  better  judgment  of  nearly 
all  by  the  selfish  arts  of  the  demagogues;  and  as  there  was 
neither  party  nor  statesman  that  had  the  nerve  to  head  the  al- 
most universal  opposition,  the  decision  went  by  default.  Xor 
will  there  be,  under  any  future  circumstances,  either  leader  or 
party  that  will  risk  the  odium  of  a  movement  to  take  away 
suffrage  from  the  incompetent  hands  of  the  blacks,  however 
clearly  it  may  appear  that  they  are  using  it  for  the  ruin  of 
themselves  and  the  countr3\  Thus  it  is  the  destinj^  of  the  Yankee 
peojDle  to  commit  a  species  of  political  Hari-kari  with  its  own 
unwilling  hands.  The  crowning  element  of  despair  is  in  the  en- 
forced consolidation  of  the  Government.  There  are  no  reserved 
rights  of  States.  The  mad  innovation  which  is  adopted  by  a 
majority  of  them  is  enforced  upon  all;  so  that  no  place  of  refuge 
is  left  in  the  whole  land  where  the  right  principles  and  usages 
might  find  sanctuary,  and  abide  as  a  wholesome  example  and 
recuperative  power  for  reform. 

What  then,  in  the  next  place,  will  be  the  effect  of  this  fun- 
damental change  when  it  shall  'be  established?  The  obvious 
answer  is,  that  it  will  destroy  Christianity  and  civilization  in 
America.  Some  who  see  the  mischievousness  of  the  movement 
express  the  hope  that  it  will,  even  if  nominally  successful,  be 
kept  within  narrow^  limits  by  the  very  force  of  its  own  absur- 
dity. They  "reckon  without  their  host."  There  is  a  Satanic 
ingenuity  in  these  Kadical  measures  which  secures  the  infec- 
tion of  the  reluctant  dissentients  as  surely  as  of  the  hot  advo- 
cates. The  women  now  sensible  and  modest  who  heartily  de- 
-precate  the  whole  folly,  will  be  dragged  into  the  vortex,  with 
the  assent  of  their  now  indignant  husbands.  The  instruments 
of  this  deplorable  result  will  be  the  (so-called)  conservative  can- 
didates for  office.  They  will  effect  it  by  this  plea,  that  ignorant, 
impudent.  Radical  women  will  vote,  and  vote  wrong;  whence 
it  becomes  a  necessity  for  the  modest  and  virtuous  women,  for 
their  country's  sake,  to  sacrifice  their  repugnance  and  counter- 
poise these  mischievous  votes  in  the  spirit  of  disinterested  self- 


women's  rights  women.  41)9 

sacrifice.  Now  a  woman  can  never  resist  an  appeal  to  the  prin- 
ciple of  generous  devotion;  her  glory  is  to  crucify  herself  in 
the  cause  of  duty  and  of  zeal.  This  plea  will  be  successful.  But 
when  the  virtuous  have  once  tasted  the  dangerous  intoxication 
of  political  excitement  and  of  power,  even  tliey  will  be  absorb- 
ed; they  will  learn  to  do  con  amore  what  was  first  done  as  a 
painful  duty,  and  all  the  baleful  influences  of  i>olitical  life  will 
be  diffused  throughout  the  sex. 

What  those  influences  >\  ill  be  may  be  learned  by  every  one 
who  reverences  the  Christian  Scriptures,  from  this  fact,  that 
the  theory  of  "Women's  Kights''  is  sheer  infidelity.  It  directly 
impugns  the  authority  and  the  justice  of  these  Scriptures.  They 
speak  in  na  uncertain  tones.  "The  husband  is  the  head  of  the 
wife"  (Eph.  V.  23).  "Wives,  submit  yourselves  to  your  own  hus- 
■'bands,  as  to  the  Lord"  (v.  22).  "The  'man  is  not  for  the  woman, 
but  the  woman  for  the  man"  (I.  Cor.  ii.  9).  "Let  the  woman 
learn  in  silence,  with  all  subjection:  but  I  suft'er  not  a  woman 
to  teach,  nor  to  usurp  authority  over  the  man,  but  to  be  in 
silence:  for  Adam  was  first  formed,  then  Eve:  and  Adam  was 
not  deceived,  but  the  woman  being  deceived  was  in  the  trans^ 
gression"  (I.  Tim.  2:  11-14).  They  are  to  be  "discreet,  chaste, 
keepers  at  home,  good,  obedient  to  their  own  husbands,"  etc. 
(Titus  ii.  5).  How  utterly  opposed  is  all  this  to 
the  levelling  doctrine  of  your  Radical.  Women  are 
here  consigned  to  a  social  subordination,  and  ex- 
pressly excluded  from  ruling  offices,  on  grounds  of 
their  isex,  and  a  divine  ordination  based  by  God  upon  a  transac- 
tion which  happened  nearly  six  thousand  years  ago!  The  wom- 
an's sphere  is  expressly  assigned  her  within  her  home,  and  she 
is  taught  that  the  assumption  of  publicity  is  an  outrage  against 
that  nature  with  which  she  is  endowed.  Xow  the  politics  which 
denounce  all  this  as  a  natural  injustice  and  self-evident  folly 
cannot  be  expected  to  reverence  these  Scriptures;  they  must 
and  will  flout  their  whole  authority.  We  must  then  make  up 
our  minds  in  accepting  \\'()men's  Kights  to  surrender  our  Bibles, 
and  have  an  atheistic  (Jovernment.  And  especially  must  we  ex- 
pect to  have,  presiding  over  every  home  and  rearing  every 
group  of  future  citizens,  that  most  abhorrent  of  all  phenomena, 
an  infidel  woman;  for  of  course  that  sex,  having  received  the 
precious  boon  of  their  enfranchisement  only  by  means  of  the 


500  women's  rights  women 

overthrow  of  the  Bible,  must  be  foremost  in  trampling  upon 
this  their  old  oppressor  and  enemy.  Its  restoration  to  author- 
ity is  necessarily  their  "re-enslavement,"  to  speak  the  language 
of  their  party. 

Second:  these  new  excitements  and  temptations  will  utter- 
ly corrupt  the  character  and  delicacy  of  American  women.  It 
is  indignantly  asked.  ''Why  should  politics  corrupt  the  morals 
of  women  more  than  of  the  'lords  of  creation'?''  Suppose  now 
we  reply:  American  politics  have  corrupted  the  morals  of  the 
men?  Suppose  we  argue  that  the  retort  is  so  true  and  just  and 
the  result  has  actually  gone  to  so  deplorable  an  extent,  that 
were  the  female  side  of  our  social  organization  as  corrupt  as 
the  male  side  has  already  become,  American  society  would 
crumble  into  ruin  by  its  own  putrescence?  It  is  better  to  save 
half  the  fabric  than  to  lose  all.  And  especially  is  it  better  to 
save  the  purity  of  the  mothers  who  are,  under  G-od,  to  form  the 
characters  of  our  future  citizens,  and  of  the  wives  who  are  to 
restrain  and  elevate  them,  whatever  else  we  endanger.  Is  it 
argued  that  since  women  are  now  confessedly  purer  than  men, 
their  entrance  into  politics  must  tend  to  purify  politics?  We 
reply  again  that  the  women  of  the  present  were  reared  and  at- 
tained this  comparative  purity  under  the  Bible  system.  Adopt 
the  infidel  plan,  and  we  shall  corrupt  our  women  without  puri- 
fying our  politics.    What  shall  save  us  then? 

But  there  is  another  reply  to  this  retort.  Political  excite- 
ments will  corrupt  women  tenfold  more  than  men;  and  this,  not 
because  women  are  naturally  inferior  to  men,  but  because  they 
are  naturally  adapted  to  a  wholly  different  sphere.  When  we 
point  to  the  fact  that  they  are  naturally  more  emotional  and 
less  calculating,  more  impulsive  and  less  self-contained,  that 
they  have  a  quicker  tact  but  less  logic,  that  their" social  nature 
makes  them  more  liable  to  the  contagion  of  epidemic  passions, 
and  that  the  duties  of  their  sex  make  it  physically  impossible 
for  them  to  acquire  the  knowledge  in  a  foreign  sphere  necessary 
for  political  duties,  we  do  not  depreciate  woman;  we  only  say 
that  nature  has  adapted  her  to  one  thing  and  disqualified  her  for 
the  other.  The  violet  would  wither  in  that  full  glare  of  mid- 
summer in  which  the  sunflower  thrives:  this  does  not  argue  that 
the  violet  is  the  meaner  flower.  The  vine,  left  to  stand  alone, 
would  be  hurled  prone  in  the  mire  by  the  first  blasts  of  that 
history.    In  the  case  of  the  Amorites  there  was  also  this  wise 


THE    LATEST   INFIDELITY.  501 

wind  which  strengthens  the  grasp  of  the  sturdy  oak  upon  its 
bed:  still  the  oak  m.a\  yield  no  fruit  so  precious  as  the  clusters 
of  the  yiue.  But  the  yine  cannat  be  an  oak;  it  must  "be  itself, 
dependent,  clinging,  but  more  precious  than  that  on  which  it 
leans  or  it  must  perish.  When  anything,  animate  or  inanimate, 
is  used  for  a  function  to  which  it  is  not  adapted,  that  foreign 
use  must  endamage  it,  and  the  more  the  farther  that  function 
is  from  its  own  sphere.  So  it  will  be  found  (and  it  is  no  dis- 
paragement tD  woman  to  say  it)  that  the  very  traits  which  fit 
her  to  be  the  angel  of  a  virtuous  home  unfit  her  to  meet  the 
agitations  of  political  life,  even  as  safely  as  does  the  more 
rugged  man.  The  hot  glare  of  publicity  and  passion  will  speed- 
ily deflower  her  delicacy  and  sweetness.  Those  temptations, 
which  her  Malipr  did  not  farm  her  to  bear,  will  debauch  her 
heart,  developing  a  character  as  much  more  repulsive  than  that 
of  the  debauched  man  as  the  fall  has  been  greater.  The  politi- 
cating  woman,  unsexed  and  denaturalized,  shorn  of  the  true 
glory  of  her  femininity,  will  appear  to  men  as  a  feeble  hybrid 
mauuikin,  with  all  the  defects  and  none  of  the  strength  of  the 
male.  Instead  of  being  the  dear  object  of  his  chivalrDus  affec- 
tion, she  becomes  his  importunate  rival,  despised  without  being 
feared. 

This  suggests  a  third  consequence,  which  some  of  the  ad- 
vocates of  the  movement  even  already  are  bold  enough  to  fore- 
shadDw.  "Women's  Eights"'  mean  the  abolition  of  all  per- 
manent marriage  ties.  We  are  told  that  Mrs.  Cady  Stanton 
avowed  this  result,  proclaiming  it  at  the  invitation  of  the  Young 
Men's  Christian  Association  of  New  York.  She  holds  that 
woman's  bondage  is  not  truly  dissolved  until  the  marriage  bond 
is  annulled.  She  is  thjroughly  consistent.  Some  hoodwinked 
advocates  of  her  reyolution  may  ^be  blind  to  the  sequence;  but 
it  is  inevitable.  It  must  follow-  by  this  cause,  if  for  no  other, 
that  the  unsexed  politicating  woman  can  never  inspire  in  man 
that  true  affection  on  whirli  marriage  should  be  founded.  Men 
will  doubtless  be  still  sensual;  but  it  is  simply  impossible  that 
they  can  desire  them  for  the  pure  and  sacred  sphere  of  the  wife. 
Let  every  woman  ask  herself:  will  she  choose  for  the  lord  of 
her  affections  an  unsexed  effeminate  man?  No  more  can  man 
be  drawn  to  the  masculine  woman.  The  mutual  attraction  of 
the  two  complementary  halves  is  gone  forever.    The  abolition 


502  women's  rights  womex 

of  marriage  would  follow  again  bj  another  cause.  The  diver- 
gent interests  and  the  rival  independence  of  the  two  equal  wills 
would  be  irreconcilable  with  domestic  government,  or  union, 
or  peace.  8hall  the  children  of  this  monstraus  uo-union  be 
held  responsible  to  two  variant  co-ordinate  and  supreme  wills 
at  once?  Heaven  pity  the  children  I  Shall  the  two  parties  to 
this  perpetual  co-partnership  have  neither  the  power  to  secure 
the  performance  of  the  mutual  duties  nor  ta  dissolve  it?  It  is 
a  self-contradiction,  an  impossible  absurdity.  Such  a  co-part- 
nership of  equals  with  independent  interests  must  be  separable 
at  will,  as  all  other  such  co-partnerships  are.  The  only  rela- 
tion between  the  sexes  which  will  remain  will  be  a  cohabitation 
continuing  so  long  as  the  convenience  or  caprice  of  both  par- 
ties may  suggest;  and  this,  with  most,  will  amount  to  a  vagrant 
concubinage. 

But  now,  what  will  be  the  character  of  the  children  reared 
under  sucli  a  domestic  organization  as  this?  If  human  exper- 
ience has  established  anything  at  all.  it  is  the  truth  of  that  prin- 
ciple announced  by  the  Hebrew  prophet  when  he  declared  that 
the  great  aim  of  God  in  ordaining  a  permanent  marriage  tie  be- 
tween one  man  and  one  woman  was  '*that  He  might  seek  a  godly 
seed."  (rod's  ordinance,  the  only  effective  human  ordinance  for 
checking  and  curbing-  the  first  tendencies  to  evil,  is  domestic, 
parental  government.  When  the  family  shall  no  longer  have  a 
head,  and  the  great  foundation  for  the  subordination  of  chil- 
dren in  the  mother's  example  is  gone;  when  the  mother  shall 
have  found  another  sphere  than  her  home  for  her  energies; 
when  she  shall  have  exchanged  the  sweet  charities  of  domestic 
love  and  sympathy  for  the  fierce  passions  of  the  hustings;  when 
families  shall  be  disrupted  at  the  caprice  of  either  party,  and 
the  children  scattered  as  foundlings  from  their  hearthstone,— 
it  requires  no  wisdom  to  see  that  a  race  of  sous  will  be  reared 
nearer  akin  to  devils  than  to  men.  In  the  hands  of  such  a  ba:s- 
tard  progeny,  without  discipline,  without  homes,  without  a 
Ood,  the  last  remains  of  social  order  will  speedily  perish,  and 
society  will  be  overwhelmed  in  savage  anarchy. 

Last:  it  would  not  be  hard  to  show,  did  space  permit,  that 
this  movement  on  the  part  of  these  women  is  as  suicidal  as  it 
is  mischievous.  Its  certain  result  will  be  the  re-enslavement  of 
women,  not  under  the  Scriptural  bonds  of  marriage,  but  under 


women's  rights  women.  508 

the  yoke  of  literal  corporeal  force.  The  woman  who  will  calm- 
ly review  tlic  coudition  of  her  sex  in  other  ages  and  countries 
will  feel  that  her  wisdom  is  to  "let  well  enough  alone."  Physi- 
cally, the  female  is  the  "weaker  vessel."  This  world  is  a  hard 
and  selfish  scene  where  the  weaker  goes  to  the  wall.  Under  all 
other  civilizations  and  all  other  religions  than  ours  woman  has 
experienced  this  fate  to  the  full;  her  condition  has  been  that  of 
a  slave  to  the  male — sometimes  a  petted  slave.  <but  yet  a  slave. 
In  Christian  and  European  society  alone  has  she  ever  attained 
the  place  of  man's  social  equal,  and  received  the  homage  and 
honor  due  from  magnanimity  to  her  sex  and  her  feebleness. 
And  her  enviable  lot  among  us  has  resulted  from  two  causes: 
the  Christian  religion  and  the  legislation  founded  upon  it  by 
feudal  chivalry.  How  insane  then  is  it  for  her  to  spurn  these 
two  bulwarks  of  defense,  to  defy  and  repudiate  the  divine  au- 
thority of  that  Bible  which  has  been  her  redemption,  and  to 
revolutionize  the  whole  spirit  of  the  English  common  law 
touching  woman's  sphere  and  rights?  f^he  is  thus  spurning  the 
only  protectors  her  sex  has  ever  found,  and  provoking  a  con- 
test in  which  she  must  inevitably  be  overwhelmed.  Casting 
away  that  dependence  and  femininity  which  are  her  true 
strength,  the  "strong-minded  woman"  persists  in  thrusting  her- 
self into  competition  with  man  as  his  equal.  But  for  contest 
she  is  not  his  equal;  the  male  is  the  stronger  animal.  As  man's 
rival,  she  is  a  pitiful  inferior,  a  sorry  she-mannikin.  It  is  when 
she  brings  her  wealth  of  affection,  her  self-devotion,  her  sympa- 
thy, her  tact,  her  grace,  her  sirbtle  intuition,  her  attractions,  her 
appealing  weakness,  and  i)laces  them  in  the  scale  with  man's 
rugged  strengtli  and  ])l()dding  endurance,  with  his  steady  log- 
ic, his  hardihood  and  nuT^cle.  and  his  exemption  from  the  dis- 
abling infirmities  of  her  sex,  that  he  delights  to  admit  her  full 
equality  and  to  do  glad  homage  to  her  as  the  crown  of  his  kind. 
All  this  vantage-ground  the  "Women's  Rights  women"  madly 
throw  away,  and  provoke  that  collision  for  which  nature  itself 
has  disqualified  them.  They  insist  upon  taking  precisely  a  man's 
chances;  well,  they  will  meet  precisely  the  fate  of  a  weak  man 
among  strong  ones.  A  recent  incident  on  a  railroad  train  justly 
illustrates  the  result.  A  solitary  female  entered  a  car  where 
every  seat  was  occupied,  and  the  conductor  closed  the  door  upon 
her  and  departed.    She  looked  in  vain  for  a  seat,  and  at  last 


o04  women's  rights  womkn. 

appealed  to  au  elderly  man  near  her  to  know  if  lie  would  not 
■'siuTeuder  his  seat  to  a  lady.'"  He.  it  seems,  was  somewhat  a 
humorist,  and  answered:  "I  will  surrender  it  cheerfully.  Mad- 
am, as  I  always  do,  but  will  beg  leave  tirst  to  ask  a  civil  ques- 
tion. Are  you  au  advocate  of  the  modern  theory  of  women's 
rights?"  Bridling  up  with  intense  energj^  she  replied,  "Yes, 
sir,  emphatically:  I  let  you  know  that  it  is  my  glory  to  be  de- 
voted to  that  noble  cause.""  "Very  well.  Madam."  said  he, 
''then  the  case  is  altered:  You  may  stand  up  like  the  rest  of  us 
men,  until  you  cafi  get  a  seat  for  yourself. "*  This  was  exa(it 
poetic  justice;  and  it  foreshadows  precisely  the  fate  of  their  un- 
natural pretensions.  Men  will  treat  them  as  they  treat  each 
other;  it  will  be  "every  man  for  himself,  and  the  devil  take  the 
hindmost.""  There  will  be  of  course  a  Semiramis  or  a  Queen 
Bess  here  and  there  who  will  h  )ld  her  own;  but  the  general  rule 
will  be  that  the  "weaker  vessels"  will  succumb;  and  the  so- 
ciety which  will  emerge  from  this  experiment  will  present  w^om- 
an  in  the  ])osiii(»n  which  she  has  always  held  among  savages, 
that  of  domestic  drudge  to  the  stronger  animal.  Instead  of  be- 
ing what  the  Bible  makes  her,  one  with  her  husband,  queen  of 
his  home,  reigning  with  the  gentle  sceptre  of  love  over  her  mod- 
est, secluded  domain,  and  in  its  pure  and  sacred  retirement  per- 
forming the  noblest  work  done  on  this  earth,  that  of  moulding 
infant  minds  to  honor  and  piety,  she  will  reappear  from  this 
ill-starred  competition  defeated  and  despised,  tolerated  only  to 
satiate  the  passion,  to  amuse  the  idleness,  to  do  the  drudgery, 
and  to  receive  the  curses  and  blows  of  her  barbarized  masters. 
Thus  will  be  consummated  that  destiny  to  which  so  many 
gloomy  prognostics  point  as  the  allotment  of  the  North  Ameri- 
can continent:  to  be  the  accursed  field  for  the  final  illustration 
of  the  harvest  of  perdition,  grown  from  the  seeding  of  the  drag- 
on's teeth  of  infidel  Radicalism.  God  gave  the  people  of  this 
land  great  and  magnificent ''blessings,  and  opportunities  and  re- 
sponsibilities. They  might  and  should  have  made  it  the  glory 
of  all  lands.  But  they  have  betrayed  their  trust:  they  have 
abused  every  gift:  above  all  have  they  insulted  him  by  flaunt- 
ing in  his  face  an  impudent,  atheistic.  Ciod-defying  theory  of 
pretended  human  rights  and  human  perfectibility  whioh  at- 
tempts to  deny  man's  subordination,  his  dependence,  his  fall  and 
native  depravity,  his  need  of  divine  grace.    It  invites  mankind 


WOMEN^'S   RIGHTS    WOMEN.  505 

to  adopt  material  civilizatiDii  and  sensual  advantage  as  their 
divinity.  It  assumes  to  be  able  to  perfect  man's  condition  by 
its  political,  literary,  and  mechanical  skill,  despising  that  Gos- 
pel of  Christ  which  is  man's  only  adequate  remedy.  It  crowns 
its  impiety  by  laying  its  defiling  hands  upon  the  very  forms  of 
that  Christianity,  while  with  the  mock  affection  of  a  Judas  it 
attempts  to  make  it  a  captive  to  the  sordid  ends  of  Mammon  and 
sense.  Must  not  God  be  avenged  on  such  a  nation  as  this?  His 
vengeance  will  be  to  give  them  the  fruit  of  their  own  hands,  and 
let  them  be  filled  with  their  own  devices.  He  will  set  apart  this 
fair  land  by  a  sort  of  dread  consecration  to  the  purpose  of  giving 
a  lesson  concerning  this  gDdless  philosophy,  so  impressive  as  to 
instruct  and  warn  all  future  generations.  As  the  dull  and  pes- 
tilential waves  of  the  Dead  Sea  have  been  to  every  subsequent 
age  the  memento  of  the  sin  of  Sodom,  so  the  dreary  tides  of  an- 
archy and  barbarism  which  will  overwhelm  the  boastful  devices 
of  infidel  democracy  will  be  the  caution  of  all  future  legislators. 
And  thus  "women's  rights"  will  assist  America  "to  fulfil  her 
great  mission."  that  of  being  the  "scarecrow''  of  the  nations. 


THE  LATEST  INFIDELITY. 


A    REPLY    TO   INGERSOLL'S    POSITIONS. 


The  phase  of  infidelity  most  current  among  thase  who  do 
not  profes.s  to  accept  the  gospel  is  marked  by  two  qualities:  It 
is  aggressive,  and  it  is  extreme.  It  refuses  to  stop  short  of  that 
last  result,  blank  atheism,  or,  at  least,  blank  agnosticism,  from 
which  even  the  skepticism  of  previous  ages  recoiled  with  ab- 
h3rrence.  This  ultraism  of  the  present  adversaries  is  in  one  re- 
spect verj'  shocking;  but  in  another" it  is  promising.  They  are 
practically  teaching  the  world  that  conclusion,  on  wMch  James 
Mills  justified  his  atheism,  that  when  once  a  man's  sense  re- 
jects the  gospel  theory,  he  finds  no  stopping  place  between  that 
rejection  and  atheism;  because,  as  Bishoj)  Butler  has  forever 
established,  every  difficulty  which  besets  the  old  gospel  plan 
equally  embarrasses  the  deistic  plan.  This  disclosure  is  use- 
ful. Our  atheists  are  teaching  people  that  there  is  no  decent 
middle  ground  for  them  to  stand  on;  but  the  voice  of  nature 
and  conscience  never  permits  decent  people  to  stand  long  on  the 
ground  of  atheism.  Tliis  outrages  both  head  and  heart  too 
horribh'.  Were  a  sjn  to  insist,  contrary  to  sufficient  evidence 
of  the  fact,  upon  denying  and  discarding  the  ver^'  existence  of 
his  father,  we  see  plainly  enough  how  his  position  involves  ev- 
ery phase  of  filial  transgression,  because  it  involves  the  abso- 
lute neglect  of  every  filial  duty.  The  position  may  involve,  in 
the  form  af  a  sin  of  omission,  the  crime  of  parricide.  The  athe- 
ist discards  the  very  existence  of  his  heavenly  Father;  so,  un- 
less he  has  justified  his  denial  by  sound  evidence,  he  includes  in 
that  act  every  sin  of  impiety.  We  see  here  the  simple  reason 
why  the  good  sense  of  mankind  has  always  regarded  atheism 
with  moral  abhorrence.  But  this  is  the  creed  which  tlu^  assail- 
ants of  our  day  prefer  to  urge  upon  us,  and  that  with  boundless 

506 


THE    LATEST    INFIDELITY.  507 

audacity.  Colonel  Robert  Ingersoll  seems  to  be  the  leader  who 
holds  this  "bad  eminence"  amidst  this  host;  he  seems  ambitious 
of  a  large  share  of  this  dreadful  responsibility.  This  fact  justi- 
fies my  occasional  reference  to  his  name  as  representing  the 
code  of  opinions  I  ^propose  to  discuss. 

His  various  essays  and  speeches — especially  his  recent  large 
essay  in  the  North  American  Revieiu — aupear  to  build  his  op- 
position to  Christianity  upon  four  grounds:  One  is  composed 
of  specific  objections  to  points  in  Bible  history  and  precept, 
which,  he  intimates,  intuitively  appear  to  him  imm jral.  An- 
other is  his  assertion  of  moral  irresponsibility  for  opinions  even 
upon  ethical  subjects.  This  lie  claims  for  himself,  and  of  course 
for  everybody  else,  as  the  only  adequate  basis  for  freedom  of 
thought,  which  we  all  regard  as  an  inalienable  right.  A  third 
ground  is  his  total  denial  of  all  punitive  aspect  and  quality  in 
the  evil  consequences  of  free  human  actions.  He  absolutely  de- 
nies the  element  of  rewards  and  punishments  in  the  experienced 
course  of  human  existence.  He  says  that  the  evils  which  fol- 
low the  mistakes  of  our  free  agency  are  nothing  but  natural 
consequences,  following  from  the  natural  laws  of  the  universe, 
which  are  necessary  and  invariable;  so  that  these  experiences 
give  no  evidence  whatever  of  a  moral  providence  over  men.  His 
fourth  and  chief  ground  is  the  old  cavil,  how  God,  if  there  were 
a  God,  could  even  permissively  ordain  natural  and  moral  evil  in 
his  kingdom. 

I.  The  first  class  of  assaults  I  propose  to  follow  to  a  verv 
short  distance.  They  could  be  all  di-sposed  of  by  pointing  to  the 
dense  ignorance  of  their  authors  CDucerning  the  Bible,  its  real 
facts  and  its  real  doctrines.  They  are  such  criticisms  as  their 
authors  would  never  have  made  had  they  read  their  Bibles  with 
attention  and  candor.  They  arc  all  absolutely  exploded  by  sim- 
ple explanations  which  the  teachers  of  the  church  have  been 
accustomed  for  generations  to  give  even  to  the  children  of  their 
Bible  classes.  It  wauld  be  wearisome  and  useless  to  go  over  all 
of  this  thorouglily-trodden  ground.  One  or  two  i)oiuts  will  serve 
for  illustration.  In  general  I  would  only  remark,  that  it  would 
be  well  for  the  critics  to  get  some  little  knowledge  of  the  Chris- 
tian literature  before  exposing  themselves  in  a  way  both  ludi- 
crous and  pitiable,  by  attacking  subjects  about  which  they  have 
been  too  proud  to  learn  anything. 


508  THE    LATEST    INFIDELITY. 

For  instance,  we  are  hotl}-  told  by  one  that  Joshua  must 
have  been  a  very  wicked  man,  because  he  not  only  punished 
Aclian  capitally  for  disobeyin«i,-  a  police  regulation,  but  mur- 
dered his  wife  and  children  along  with  him.  But  the  old  testa- 
ment makes  Joshua  a  very  pious  hero;  wherefore  it  also  is  a 
very  wicked  and  fjolish  book.  The  simple  and  sufficient  reply 
is,  that  the  execution  of  Achan's  family  was  none  of  Joshua's 
doings.  He  had  no  more  discretion  about  it  than  about  Noah's 
tiood.  (lod  was  the  agent,  and  Joshua  his  merely  involuntary 
instrument.  So  that  the  moral  question  in  the  given  case  re- 
solves itself  into  this:  Has  Almighty  God  a  right  to  punish  a 
contumacious  and  immoral  family  of  his  creatures  with  death 
for  a  special  wise  end,  death  being  the  final  just  penalty  of  all 
sin?  No  man,  after  provisionally  admitting  the  condition  of 
this  question,  even  for  argument's  sake,  is  silly  enough  to  as- 
sert that,  if  there  is  such  a  God,  such  retribution  from  him 
would  be  necessarily  unjust.  Or.  do  they  reinforce  their  cavil 
by  saying  tliere  is  no  evidence  that  Achan's  wife  and  children 
were  accomplices  in  his  theft?  The  simple  reply  is,  that  un- 
doubtedly God  knew  them  to  be  a  bad  family,  worthy  on  gen- 
eral grounds  of  his  eternal  displeasure.  For  the  principle  of 
imputatian  on  which  this  case  proceeds  is  that  God  righteous- 
ly imputes  part  of  the  guilt  of  wicked  parents  to  children,  but 
only  to  wicked  children.*  So  that  we  are  certain  the  family 
also  was  vicious  and  disobedient.  Had  God  punished  them 
some  years  after  with  death,  or  rheumatism,  or  cholera,  nobody 
who  admits  that  there  is  a  God,  would  have  dreamed  of  im- 
pugning the  justice  of  that  providential  dispensation.  Who, 
then,  can  blame  the  Sovereign  Judge  if,  for  the  sake  of  an  im- 
portant and  wise  object,  he  anticipated  the  deserved  punish- 
ment and  connected  it  with  that  of  the  criminal  head  of  the 
family?  But  I  also  deny  the  asserted  ground  of  the  cavil,  that 
persons  were  punished  along  with  Achan  who,  hov.ever  other- 
wise sinful,  were  innocent  of  his  particular  breach  of  military 
orders.  No  doubt  they  were  implicated- Avith  him  by  receiving 
and  concealing  the  plunder.  The  receiver  is  as  bad  as  the  thief. 
If  there  were  infants  in  the  family,  death  removed  them  to  the 
bliss  of  heaven. 


*Ex.xx.  5;  Ezek.  xviii. 


THE    LATEST   INFIDELITY.  500 

Or,  they  object  to  Joshua's  iiivasioii  of  Palestine,  and 
charge  that  his  war  of  extermination  there  showed  him  no  bet- 
ter than  a  land  pirate  and  a  murderer;  and  that,  as  the  O^d 
Testament  represents  God  as  sanctioning  these  horrors,  they 
feel  intuitively  it  is  a  very  wicked  book.  I  reply,  that  here  a 
very  large  sophism  is  foisted  in  under  a  very  small  jugglery  of 
words.  This  shallow  little  trick  consists  in  the  phrase  "God 
sanctioned,''  instead  of  "God  ordained."  Thus  it  injects  into 
the  mind  this  conception  of  tiie  transaction:  that  after  Joshua, 
a  human  sinner,  who  had  no  right  to  dispoise  of  other  people's 
property  and  lives,  had  conceived  his  murderous  project,  God 
granted  it  his  approval.  Of  course  that  would  be  exceedingly 
ugly.  But  the  actual  fact  is  that  Joshua  never  conceived  the 
plan  at  all.  The  war  of  extermination  against  the  Amorites 
was  no  plan  of  Joshua's.  There  is  not  a  particle  of  proof  that  he 
ever  thought  he  as  a  mere  man  had  any  right  to  dispose  of 
other  people's  property  and  lives.  The  plan  of  extermination 
was  God's  alone.  He  dictated  it  to  Joshua.  And  again  we  say 
this  general  had  no  more  discretion  about  it  than  he  had  about 
God's  Infliction  of  the  deluge.  God's  jjurpose  employed  Joshua 
as  a  mere  executioner;  and  if  the  Sovereign  Judge  had  a  right 
to  pass  the  decree,  it  is  nonsense  to  blame  the  mere  servant  who 
was  compelled  to  execute  it.  The  logic  of  this  accusation  is 
just  as  silly  as  that  of  a  man  who,  after  admitting  the  right- 
eousness of  the  laws  of  New  York,  should  call  Mr.  Cleveland 
a  murderer,  because  when  he  was  sheriff  at  Buffalo  he  hung 
some  convicted  assassins.  Now,  then,  the  only  question  in- 
volved in  this  piece  of  history  is,  whether  Almighty  God  has  the 
right  to  punish  a  tribe  of  his  own  creatures,  whose  iniquity  was 
now  full,  with  the  death  penalty.  We  can  get  a  pretty  accu- 
rate conception  of  what  the  morals  of  these  gross  idolaters  had 
become.  Their  habits,  like  those  of  other  advanced  idolaters, 
were  doubtless  defiled  by  every  vile  excess  of  lust,  avarice, 
cruelty,  unnatural  affections,  human  sacrifice,  infanticide.  If 
God  has  any  title  at  all  to  judge  the  world  in  righteousness,  he 
certainly  had  a  right  to  rid  the  world  of  this  plague  spot  in  his 
own  way.  He  had  adopted  another  instrumentality  to  burn  out 
a  similar  plague-spot,  Sodom,  and  he  was  justified  for  that  by 
Jesus,  by  the  apostles,  and  every  honest  man  that  ever  read  the 


510  THE    LATEST    INFIDFLTTY. 

administrative  reason  for  God's  dealing:  that  he  was  planning 
to  preserve  a  pure  religion  and  morality  in  Israel,  which  re- 
(luired  their  effectual  protection  from  the  contamination  of  this 
pagan  example. 

Third,  'Colonel  Ingersoll  himself  has  been  in  the  haibit  of 
attacking  the  Bible  passionately,  because  he  found  that,  when 
candidly  explained,  it  countenanced  slavery — the  Old  Testa- 
ment actually  ordaining  it,  and  the  New  Testament  allowing  it. 
But  inasmuch  as  slavery  appears  very  abominable  to  his  moral 
intuitions,  this  compels  him  to  regard  them  as  wicked  books. 
Here,  again,  the  critic's  whole  difficulty  arises  out  of  a  sheer 
misconception.  Let  me  ask  him  what  that  thing  is  which  ap- 
pears so  evil;  he  defines  it  substantially  thus:  the  usurpation 
by  a  stronger  individual  at  his  own  violent  will  over  tlie  being 
of  'his  weaker  fellow-man,  whereby  the  victim  is  reduced  from 
a  human  personality,  with  a  moral  responsibility  and  destiny, 
to  a  mere  chattel,  a  brute  possession,  whose  labor,  happiness 
and  very  existence  may  then  be  exhausted  by  the  usurper  for 
his  own  selfish  behoof.  I  am  happy  to  be  able  to  console  the 
critic  by  assuring  him,  first,  that  everybody  else  would  abhor 
such  a  relation  just  as  he  does;  and,  second,  that  the  two  Testa- 
ments, instead  of  ordaining  or  allowing  it,  even  adjudged  it 
just  as  he  and  I  do.  And  here  is  the  triumphant  proof  that  this 
very  conception  of  the  usurpation  which  Colonel  Ingersoll  er- 
roneously supposes  to  be  the  conception  of  slavery,  is  precisely 
the  crime  which  both  Testaments  condemn.  (As  in  N.  T.  the 
act  of  the  andrapoaistes,  and  in  O.  T.  nogebh  is/i')  The  Bible 
abhorred  it  so  much  that  whilst  Moses  made  only  a  few  crimes 
capital  he  made  this  one  of  them;  and  the  New  Testament  usual- 
ly recites  it  along  with  the  enormous  wickednesses  that  incur 
the  damnation  of  hell.  What,  then,  was  that  relation  of  human 
bondage  which  Closes  ordained  and  the  apostles  allowed?  Not 
the  usurpation  of  a  personal  will  over  a  fellow-creature,  not  the 
reduction  of  the  bondman  from  a  responsible  human  person  to 
a  chattel  (which  injustice  is  nowhere  countenanced  or  excused 
by  Holy  Scripture,  or  by  any  modern  Christian  that  ever  I 
heard  of),  but  it  was  wholly  another  thing,  to-wit:  the  regular 
institution,  by  the  legislatiA^e  sovereignty  of  the  commonwealth, 
of  a  personal  and  domestic  authority  for  life  over  the  involun 
tary  labor  of  the  bondman,  who  was  deemed  by  the  law  unfitted 


THE    LATEST  INFIDELITY.  511 

for  his  awn  safe  control,  in  tlie  hands  of  a  citizen  supposed  by 
the  law  to  be  more  competent,  and  this  authority  to  be  exer- 
cis:ed  'by  the  master  under  the  restraints  of  statute  law.  which 
also  treated  the  bondman  as  a  responsible  agent,  and  guaran- 
teed to  him  his  life,  limbs  and  subsistence  against  the  aggression 
even  of  his  master.  Xow,  it  is  apparent  that  he  would  be  a  very 
bold  man  who  would  undertake  to  argue  that  this  relation  is 
essentially  unjust,  and  the  code  which  established  ir  under  any 
possible  circumstances  a  wicked  one.  When  arguing  thus  he 
would  have  to  attack  the  righteousness  of  the  parental  author- 
ity over  minors,  and  indeed  every  form  of  governmental  re- 
straint of  magistrates  over  individuals  uat  grounded  in  convic- 
tion of  crime. 

I  have  shown  in  these  three  specimens  how  completely 
they  are  exploded  by  a  little  tincture  of  Bible  knowledge  and 
common  sense.  I  assert  that  all  the  other  objections  of  this  class 
can  be  shown  to  be  equally  worthless,  but  they  are  too  numerous 
and  trivial  to  detain  the  reader. 

II.  The  second  general  ground  for  rejecting  Christianity  is 
the  doctrine  so  dear  to  skeptics,  that  no  man  is  morally  respon- 
sible for  any  of  the  opinions  which  he  sincerely  holds.  They 
assert  that  this  position  is  the  only  basis  for  true  intellectual 
freedom.  They  argue  from  it  that  our  charge  of  sinfulness,  or 
possibly  impiety,  or  even  our  manifestation  of  moral  disappro- 
val against  their  most  extreme  speculations,  is  unjust,  and  is 
of  the  nature  of  wicked  persecution  of  the  free-thinkers.  They 
also  argue  that  the  Christian  system  is  absurd,  in  that  it  makes 
faith  its  cardinal  condition  for  enjoying  God's  favor,  inasmuch 
as  no  man's  faith  has  any  moral  character,  and  cannot  be  a 
subject  of  moral  responsibility,  or  approval  or  disapproval. 
Colonel  Ingersoll  is  certain  that  to  whatever  extremes  of  athe- 
ism, or  even  of  what  appears  to  other  people  blasphemy,  he 
is  really  led  (not  feignedly)  by  his  thinking,  he  is  as  innocent 
therein  as  a  man  is  for  the  color  of  his  hair  or  the  height  of 
his  stature.  And  here  is  his  proof:  that  if  the  evidence  appears 
before  the  mind,  intellectual  credence  is  purely  involuntary,  be- 
ing the  logical  result  of  the  evidence,  and  metaphysically  neces- 
sitated; that  such  credence  is  exclusively  the  result. of  intel- 
lectual activities  of  the  mind,  with  which  neither  emotion  nor 
will  has  anything  to  do;  that  our  responsibility  is  limited  to 


512  THE    LATEST   INFIDELITY. 

those  acts  of  the  spirit  which  have  a  voluntary  source.  So,  he 
thinks,  it  would  be  as  unjust  to  blame  him  for  his  atheistic  con- 
clusions to  w'hicli  his  thought  has  led  him,  as  to  blame  a  man  for 
being  wet  when  he  has  been  thrown  into  the  water. 

If  he  were  not  extremely  ignorant  of  jjliilos  )phy  and  theol- 
ogy he  would  be  aware  that  this  is  but  the  old  sophism  in  psy- 
chology, which  has  been  a  thousand  times  refuted.     When  we 
hear  Colonel   Ingersoll  assert  that  his  anri-('lirisrian   convic- 
tions are  the  fruit  of  his  pure  intellection,  without  any.  element 
of  emotion  or  will,  we  picture  to  ourselves  the  huge  laughter 
of  his  own  votaries  at  so  vast  and  obvious  an  irony;  for  their 
own  eyes  and  ears  tell  them  that  his  agnosticism  is  all  passion. 
What  means  that  labored  torrent  of  fiery  and  vindictive  elo- 
quence with  which  he  assails  the  theologians  and  the  Bible? 
Do  not  his  auditors  hear  him  ascribe  his  opposition  to  the  Scrip- 
tures in  part  to  his  passionate  abhorrence  of  slavery?    Do  they 
not  see  hatred  of  Christianity  and  its  restraints  blazing  amidst 
the  whole  frame-work  of  his  pretended  logic?     His  unbelief 
pure  passionless  intellection  indeed  I    Why,  he  is  incarnate  pas- 
sion!    It  is  supremely  ludicrous  1     And  we  surmise  that  every 
applauder  of  his  atheism  who  does  any  thinking  is  conscious 
of  this;  every  one  sees  that  there  is  really  no  logic  at  all  in  this 
agnostic  eloquence,  but  it  is  all  feeling,  and  it  is  acceptable 
simply  because  it  harmonizes  with  the  conscious  hatred  of  his 
hearers  against  the  holiness  of  the  Bible  and  its  restraints  on 
their  proud  self-will.     We  have  only  to  remember  that  the  ob- 
ject of  every  moral  judgment  is  a  moral  object  which  unavoid- 
ably engages  and  interests  the  disposition,  affections  and  will 
of  every  rational  moral  agent,  and  all  who  can  reason  see  that 
no  moral  conclusion  can  be  a  pure  intellection,  but  that  some 
voluntary  element  must  enter  for  good  or  for  evil  into   the 
sources  of  every  such  judgment.     Xo  man  on  earth  reasons 
towards  objects  which  he  either  likes  or  dislikes  strongly,  with 
the  same  complete  intellectual  impartiality  with  which  he  rea- 
sons about  pure  mathematics.     If  he  claims  that  he  does,  it  is 
because  "a  deceived  heart  hath  turned  him  aside.""    This  is  the 
analysis  of  common  sense.    This  is  the  philosophy  on  which  ev- 
ery sensible  man  in  the  world  accounts  for  the  multitude  of 
these  familiar  facts,  to-wit:  that  all  people,  while  agreeing  per- 
fectly upon  the  truths  of  mathematics  and  numbers,  differ  more 


THE    LATEST   INFIDELITY.  513 

or  less  upon  questions  of  property  rights,  law-siiits,  character, 
politics,  medicine,  and  religion.  It  is  because  all  these  objects 
of  thought  involve  elements  which  appeal  to  the  feelings  and 
the  will.  Now  the  false  argument  itself  concedes  that  where  a 
voluntary  element  is  involved  in  the  sources  of  any  spiritual 
action,  it  is  to  that  extent  responsible.  This  is  all  I  claim.  Here 
is  a  man  who  has  reached  true  conclusions  on  moral  subjects. 
He  is  virtuous  and  approvable  for  them  just  to  the  extent  to 
which  a  right  heart  has  co-operated  in  his  reaching  them.  Here 
is  another  man  w^ho  holds  erroneous  opinions  on  a  moral  sub- 
ject, and  he  is  responsible  and  blamable  therefor  just  to  the  ex- 
tent in  which  a  proud  and  evil  heart  has  helped  to  bring  them 
about. 

So  absurd  is  Colonel  Ingersoll's  position  that  lie  clearl}^  dis- 
closes the  fact  that  he  does  not  believe  it  himself.  He  claims 
not  to  be  responsible  or  blamable  for  his  anti-religious  conclu- 
sions; then,  of  course,  all  the  rest  of  us  should  be  equally  irre- 
sponsible for  our  conclusions  held  with  similar  honesty.  Now 
here  is  a  man  whose  thinking  has  honestly  led  him  to  this  con- 
clusion, which  he  really  believes  from  the  bottom  of  his  heart 
he  has  fairly  reached,  to-wit:  that  Colonel  Ingersoll's  agnosti- 
cism is  erroneous,  that  it  is  morally  blamable,  that  he  is  conse- 
quently responsible  for  it  (not  indeed  to  man,  but  to  his  God, 
and  this  is  the  vital  distinction  which  guarantees  to  all  of  us 
all  the  mental  and  religious  liberty  to  which  we  are  entitled), 
and  consequently  that  the  reproaches  suggested  by  this  evil 
creed  which  he  hurls  against  his  (lod,  and  his  fatal  misleadin"- 
of  his  immortal  fellow-men,  are  extremely  sinful.  Now,  does 
Colonel  Ingersoll  view  this  honest  conviction  of  mine  with  any 
of  that  philosophic  nonchalance  which  he  requires  me  to  use 
towards  his?  Not  he!  He  blames  me  for  it  extremely,  as  un- 
just to  him,  as  tyrannical,  tending  towards  the  wickedness  of 
persecution  for  opinion's  sake.  He  fulminates  his  indignant 
rhetoric  against  the  wrong  I  am  doing  him.  He  fills  the  atmos- 
phere with  his  complaints  of  me.  Now  this  excites  our  huge 
laughter.  The  unbeliever  himself  demonstrates  the  absurdity 
of  his  own  position,  and  refuses  to  stand  on  it  at  the  first  change 
of  the  case.  So  he  teaches  us  he  does  not  believe  his  own  phil- 
osophy. 

It  is  in  fact  impossible  to  be  believed  by  anybody,  because 


514  THE    LATEST   INFIDELITY. 

it  involves  us  in  absolute  contradictions.  If  honesty  in  error 
were  all  that  is  needed  to  hold  us  innocent,  truth  would  have 
no  practical  value  above  that  of  error.  But  truth  has  its  eternal 
intrinsic  value.  Again,  our  decisive  conclusions  according  to 
the  necessary  laws  of  our  spirits  direct  us  in  our  actions.  It 
is  proper  that  they  should,  or  otherwise  our  actions  might  al- 
ways be  irrational,  aimless,  and  worthless.  Now  if  we  allow 
the  man  to  lutld  himself  irresponsible  for  his  moral  opinions, 
of  course  we  must  hold  him  irresponsible  for  all  the  actions 
which  they  logically  direct.  After  you  have  justified  the  tree 
in  being  the  species  of  fruit-tree  it  is.  you  cannot  blame  it  for 
bearing  that  species  of  fruit.  So  that  this  philosophy  requires 
us  to  justify  some  of  the  most  mischievous  and  abominable 
crimes  that  are  done  on  earth.  Let  us  see  again  whither  it  car- 
ries its  advocate.  Colonel  Ingersoll  knows  that  the  slave-hold- 
ers were  g:euerally  sincere  in  their  belief  of  their  right;  there- 
fore he  would  have  to  justify  the  slavery  he  so  abhors.  He 
knows  that  Messrs.  Davis,  Lee  and  Jackson  were  perfectly  sin- 
cere in  their  convictions;  so  he  must  justify  them  in  all  those 
blows  at  "the  life  of  the  nation"  which  his  patriotism  abhors. 
Supposing  the  magistrates  of  the  old-fashioned  State  of  Dela- 
ware, honest  and  sincere  in  the  advocacy  of  that  antiquated  stat- 
ute which,  we  are  told,  still  makes  atheistic  utterances  a  mis- 
demeanor punishable  at  the  whippingpost,  and  supposing  the 
gallant  Colonel's  zeal  for  his  truth  to  have  led  him  to  that 
Pauline  grade  of  heroism  which  makes  men  glory  in  stripes  for 
the  truth's  sake,  his  philosophy  would  require  hiiu  to  justify 
those  magistrates,  even  at  the  moment  the  constable's  scourge 
was  descending  on  his  back.  But  would  it'?  We  trow  not. 
Again  he  provokes  the  inextinguishable  laughter  of  the  on- 
lookers.   His  theory  of  free  thought  is  "unworkable." 

Again,  the  position  leads  to  a  consequence  yet  worse.  It 
is  entirely  possible  that  two  sincere  reasoners  may  reach  op- 
posite conclusions  concerning  the  same  moral  object.  If  each 
is  irresponsible  and  innocent  in  his  conclusion,  he  must  be 
equally  so  in  the  action  to  which  it  directs  him.  So  our  phil- 
osopher has  on  his  hands  this  strange  case:  A  has  a  logical 
right  to  execute  an  action  touching  the  disputed  object,  which 
B,  the  other  party,  has  an  equally  logical  and  moral  right  to  re- 


THE    LATEST   INFIDELITY.  5l5 

sist  as  a  wrong  to  himself  I    'The  force  of  nature  could  no  fur- 
ther go." 

In  conclusion  of  this  head,  we  remind  the  "free-thinkers'" 
(whom  the  above  argument  proves  to  be  not  free-thinkers,  but 
crazy-thinkers),  that  their  doctrine  is  refuted  by  every  analogy 
of  nature  and  every  experimental  fact  of  their  own  observation. 
The  natural  laws  which  regulate  the  results  of  our  free  actions 
invariably  h  )ld  us  responsible  for  our  erroneous  opinions.  When 
we  make  honest  mistakes  as  to  the  stare  of  facts,  nature  makes 
no  allowance  for  us,  but  inexorably  holds  us  to  the  results  of 
the  real  facts.     The  youth  who  goes  sailing  in  a  rotten  boar, 
really  supposing  it  to  be  sound,  gets  his  ducking  just  the  same. 
The  farmer  who  exposes  his  grain,  honestly  thinking  the  fair 
weather  will  hold,  if  he  proves  mistaken  in  the  weather,  has 
his  grain  mildewed  just  as  though  he  had  wilfully  neglected  it. 
The  sick  man  who  swallows  three  grains  of  morphia,  really  sup- 
posing it  to  be  quinine,  dies  just  as  the  iutentianal  suicide.    But 
why  multiply  instances?    We  thus  see  universal  nature  repu- 
diates this  shallow  philosophy.     And  so  we  rerurn  to  our  cou- 
clusion,  that  men  are  and  ought  to  be  responsible  for  their  mor- 
al opinions;  that  the  psychological  reason  why,  is  this:  erron- 
eous moral  opinions  cannor  be  adopred  by  rhe  rarional  crearure 
except  there  be  some  voluntary  element  at  work  amidst  these 
sources  of  the  wrong  judgment;  and  to  this  voluntary  element 
blame  justly  attaches;  that,  therefore,  men  are  justly  held  re- 
sponsible for  their  wrong  actions,  though  logically  dictated  by 
their  own  opinions;  that  all  penal  responsibility     for     wrong 
opinions  is  reserved  to  God  alone,  and  is  never  to  be  usurped 
by  human  beings  unless  those  opinions  be  embodied  in    crim- 
inal actions;  that  the  resistance  of  the    errorist's    fellow-men 
must  be  limited  to  disapprobation  and  argumentative  refuta- 
tion; and  thus  the  truth  is  established  without  opening  the  door 
to  the  hateful  doctrine  of  penal  persecution  for  opinion's  sake. 
III.    The  third  ground  of  objection,  as  given  above,  is  his 
total  denial  of  all  punitive  aspect  and  quality  in  the  evil  conse- 
quences of  free  human  actions.    He  absolutely  denies  the  ele- 
ment of  rewards  and  punishments  in  the  experienced  course  of 
human  existence.    He  says  that  the  evils  which  follow  the  mis- 
takes of  our  free  agency  are  nothing  but  natural  consequences, 
following  from  the  natural  laws  of  the  universe,  which  are 


5l6  THE   LATEST   INFIDELITY. 

necessary  and  invariable;  so  that  these  experiences  give  no  evi- 
dence whatever  of  a  moral  providence  over  men.  Colonel  In- 
gersoll  roundly  asserts  that  in  the  course  of  nature  and  ex- 
perience there  are  no  punishments,  but  only  natural  consequen- 
ces. He  also  admits  that  the  laws  which  dispense  these  conse- 
quences are  invariable.  The  only  possible  method  b}'  which 
evil  can  be  averted  is  to  reform  the  mistakes  which  incurred 
it.  The  object  of  this  strange  doctrine  is  manifestly  to  escape 
that  argument  for  the  being  and  the  moral  providence  of  a  God. 
which  is  written  so  plainly  all  over  human  events.  We  have 
two  points  here:  First,  his  denial  is  abortive.  Had  he  read,  or 
read  dispassionateh,  the  second  chapter  of  Part  I.  in  Bishop 
Butler's  Analogy,  he  would  never  have  written  those  para- 
graphs in  which  he  stated  his  doctrine.  Bishop  Butler  sliows 
by  arguments  which  no  man  can  refute,  that  the  happy  conse- 
quences of  good  conduct  are  of  the  nature  of  rewards,  and  evil 
consequences  of  misconduct  have  every  trait  and  characteristic 
of  true  penalties,  even  down  to  the  most  minute;  that  this  gen- 
eral law  of  nature  is  therefore  a  moral  law  as  well  as  a  natural 
one;  that  it  is  a  disclosure  of  a  righteous  personal  will  above 
nature,  and  that  it  holds  men  under  a  moral  probation  for  their 
conduct.  And  since  this  is  universally  true  of  man's  moral  es- 
tate, as  soon  as  we  learn  his  continued  rational  existence  after 
death,  the  utmost  probability  arises,  that  we  must  meet  the  con- 
sequences of  our  probation  in  a  future  world  as  well  as  the 
present.  All  this  follows  without  the  light  of  Scripture.  It  is 
scarcely  necessary  to  weary  the  reader  by  repeating  the  points 
of  that  masterly  argument.  It  is  a  shame  for  any  educated  man, 
especially  an  English-speaking  man,  to  handle  this  doctrine 
without  informing  himiseif  of  Bishop  Butler's  argument.  No 
man  who  ever  informs  himself  candidly  of  it  will  ever  dispute 
its  conclusions.  I  will,  only  for  confirmation,  make  these  two 
remarks:  Every  suffering  transgressor  in  the  w^orld  intuitively 
recognizes  in  his  own  consciousness  the  conceptions  of  guilt  and 
punishment  as  soon  as  he  recognizes  the  causal  connection  be- 
tween his  own  error  and  the  natural  evil  consequences.  Let  any 
such  case  be  taken  at  random.  Let  it  be,  for  instance,  the  case  of 
a  man  who,  by  sensual  excesses  in  the  use  of  stimulants  (alco- 
hol, opium,  tobacco),  has  ruined  his  digestion.  His  reason  has 
admitted  this  proposition — that  his  own  excesses  have  caused 


THE    LATEST   INFIDELITY.  517 

his  own  suft'ei-ings.  Has  there  ever  been  such  a  man  in  the 
woild  wh3se  consciousness  contained  only  the  ph^'sical  feelings 
of  pain,  nausea,  lassitude,  and  so-forth.  and  the  self-calculated 
personal  feelings  of  fear,  sorrow,  and  so-forth?  Is  this  all  that 
is  in  his  consciousness?  Never.  There  is  always  the  additional 
element  of  self-blame.  There  is  always  self-reproach  for  hav- 
ing done  what  he  ought  not.  The  man  knows  intuitively  that 
he  has  been  guilty  in  the  case,  and  not  merely  mistaken;  and 
that  these  sufferings  are  penal,  and  not  merely  painful.  Men 
not  seldom  incur  seA'ere  physical  sufferings  in  the  magnanimous 
performance  of  duties,  as,  for  instance,  the  faithful  fireman  who 
is  burnt  in  rescuing  human  life.  Xow  the  burn  hurts  him  just 
as  badly  as  the  drunkard's  gastritis  hurts  him;  but  is  it  possi- 
ble for  the  consciousness  of  these  two  men  under  the  suffer- 
ings to  be  the  same?  Never.  This  brave,  honest  man  suffers, 
but  cannot  reproach  himself.  This  guilty  sensualist  also  suffers, 
and  is  compelled  to  reproach  himself.  According  to  Colonel 
Ingersoll's  theory,  the  two  men  ought  to  have  the  same  con- 
sciousness. Such  ftest-cases  show  that  the  human  mind  intui- 
tively, and  necessarily,  recagnizes  those  very  moral  elements  of 
blameworthiness  and  punishment  which  are  so  rashly  denied. 
My  other  remark  is,  that  all  men,  when  sipectators  of  the  na- 
tural penalties  of  transgression,  intuitively  recognize  the  penal 
relation.  What  they  say  is  always  something  like  this:  **We 
are  sorry  for  him.  but  it  serves  him  right";  or,  "Well,  the  fellow 
has  got  what  he  deserves."  Now,  what  does  the  common  sense 
of  mankind  mean  by  these  words  ''right,"  ''desert?"  We  thus 
see  that  the  world  is  against  that  doctrine.  Colonel  lugersoll 
is  a  lawyer.  We  would  request  him  to  attempt  an  explanation 
upon  his  philosophy  of  the  penalties  which  civil  S3ciety  visits 
uiton  secular  crimes.  If  there  is  any  logic  in  his  composition, 
a  half-hour's  meditation  on  that  problem  will  convince  liim  that 
his  philosophy  lands  him  in  a  Serbonian  bog.  For  instance, 
would  the  conscience  of  mankind  have  universally  justified 
such  inflictions  by  civil  society  if  it  had  not  been  instructed  and 
supported  by  the  analogy  of  these  penalties  of  nature?  Is  not 
civil  society  itself  one  of  the  inevitable  results  of  this  constitu- 
tion of  human  nature?  Yes.  ilust  it  not  follow,  then,  that  the 
evils  which  civil  society  visits  on  secular  crimes  are  also  na- 
tural consequences  of  these  natural  laws,  as  truly  so  as  the 


51  <S  THE   LATEST   INFIDELITY 

drimkard's  gastritis?  But  tliose  are  avowedly  penal.  Once 
more,  Colonel  Inoersoll  on  liis  theory  would  have  to  explain  the 
imprisonment  whicli  he  visits  on  a  felon,  as  precisely  parallel 
to  the  detention  in  a  (luarantine  shi]*  of  a  virtuous  citizen  who 
has  just  liad  the  had  luck  to  sail  i-eeently  from  a  yellow-fever 
port.  Are  tlu^  two  iuHictions  piecisely  the  same  expediences 
for  the  j)ul)lir  good.  (M}ually  unfounded  on  an  im])utation  of 
guilt  to  the  sufferers?  That  is  tlie  explanation  t;>  which  his 
philosophy  would  lead  him;  bur  he  dare  not  accept  it.  He 
knows  that  the  virtuous  ti'aveler  is  detained  in  spite  of  his  in- 
nocence; but  the  felon  is  detained  because  of  his  guilt.  He 
who  says  that  the  natural  evils  incui-red  by  misconduct  are  not 
penalties,  but  mere  consequences,  ought  also  t )  say  that  evils 
which  society,  itself  a  natural  institution,  inflicts  on  criminals 
are  al&o  mere  consequences,  and  not  just  penalties.  liut  against 
this  every  conscience  revolts. 

Our  second  point  of  objection  is:  tliat  Oolonel  IngersolTs 
doctrine  a'bout  natural  evils,  if  true,  would  be  unspeakably 
harsher  and  moi'c  it^ipulsive  than  tlie  ( 'liristian  doctrine,  wliich 
lie  thinks  too  harsh  to  be  endured.  For,  flrst,  it  places  us  er- 
ring mortals  not  under  the  dominion  of  a  righteous  personal 
will,  which  is  also  wise,  benevolent,  and  merciful,  but  under  the 
rule  of  invariable  natural  laws.  Under  these,  the  evils  which 
men  experience,  saith  lie,  are  not  penalties,  but  mere  conse- 
quences. Niow  a  cade  wliicli  has  no  penalties  of  course  has  no 
pardons.  There  is  no  room  in  it  for  the  conception  of  forgive- 
ness. It  tells  a  suffering  transgressor  tliat.  when  once  his  mis- 
take is  made,  his  suffering  must  be  as  inevitable  as  the  attrac- 
tion of  gravitation  or  the  rotation  ;)f  the  earth.  Can  mere  na- 
tural law  hear  a  prayer?  Does  it  understand  repentance?  Can 
it  feel  pity?  Ask  the  ocean  storm  or  the  devouring  fire  these 
questions.  Here  truly  we  have  humanity  with  a  vengeance  I 
The  skeptic  is  too  humane  to  endure  the  concei:)tion  of  penal 
chastisement  directed  by  a  personal  (lod,  who  is  botli  just  and 
merciful;  and  to  help  matters,  he  proposes  lo  consign  his  fellow- 
creatures  to  the  iron  and  remorseless  dominion  of  natural  law, 
which  is  equally  ignorant  of  repentanc(\  mercy,  and  forgive- 
ness. But,  he  says,  let  the  erring  man  reform  his  mistake,  and 
thereby  he  will  emerge  from  the  painful  conse<iuences.  Is  this 
true?    Does  he  not  know  that  the  constant  tendency  of  natural 


THE   LATEST   INFIDELITY.  519 

evil  is  to  proceed  to  the  irreparable  stage?  This  drunkard's 
gastritis,  for  instance,  even  if  he  reforms  early,  is  only  palliat- 
ed, not  wholly  eradicated.  At  best  he  goes  the  rest  of  his  life 
a  crippled  man,  and  death,  the  supreme  natural  evil,  falls  upon 
him  at  last;  but  in  a  multitude  of  instances  the  gastritis  retains 
its  virulence  in  spite  of  the  reform.  For  all  these  innumerable 
sufferers  the  skeptic  has  only  a  gospel  of  despair.  ITe  tells  his 
fellQW,  "You  are  in  the  clutches  of  inexorable  physical  law; 
you  have  transgressed  it;  you  perish." 

Next,  it  is  impossible  for  Colonel  Ingersoll  to  rid  either  him- 
self or  his  fellow-creatures  of  the  sentiment  of  moral  desert  in 
their  conduct.  It  is  at  once  the  deepest  and  the  keenest  of  hu- 
man sentiments.  There  is  no  craving  of  the  human  sduI  so  pro- 
found as  the  demand  for  justice  to  its  merits,  and  a  righting 
for  the  wrongs  done  to  it.  There  is  no  anguish  so  keen,  so  in- 
consolable, as  that  inflicted  by  their  refusal.  Now  the  skeptic's 
theory  proiposes  to  take  these  moral  creatures,  with  these  ex- 
quisite sensibilities,  and  subject  them  to  a  system  of  laws  which 
neither  knows  nor  cares  anything  about  moral  deserts.  Which 
is  about  as  humane  as  to  consign  the  feeding,  nursing,  and  con- 
solation of  all  the  orphan,  the  sick,  and  the  sorrowing  children 
in  the  world  to  a  huge  steam  engine.  For  our  part,  we  would 
rather  leave  our  orphans  to  an  all-wise  parent,  who  would  whip 
them  well  when  they  deserved  it,  but  who  could  also  hear  their 
prayers,  understand  their  penitence,  and  forgive  their  way- 
wardness. 

Once  more,  onr  skeptic  confesses  that  he  cannot  tell  us 
whether  we  shall  ]iv('  beyond  bodily  death  or  not.  Then,  for 
all  he  knows,  we  may.  And  if  we  do,  it  follows  of  course  from 
his  theory,  that  we  must  pass  our  immortal  existence  also  un- 
der this  blind  natural  code  of  laws,  which,  knowing  nothing  of 
penalties,  can  know  nothing  of  pardons.  When  we  observe  the 
system  of  nature,  as  exjiounded  by  him,  the  clearest  and  most 
ominous  feature  about  it  is,  that  these  evil  consequences  of 
human  error  aie  continually  tending  to  pass,  under  our  own 
eyes,  into  the  irreparable.  The  longer  the  career  of  error  is  con- 
tinued, the  more  certainly  is  this  result  reached.  Thus  the  only 
inference  from  his  scheme  of  naturalism  is  this,  that  if  we 
should  not  have  the  luck  to  die  like  the  pig  or  the  dog,  we 
must  face  the  violent  probability,  that  these  "mere  consequen- 


520  THE    LATEST    INFIDELITY. 

ces"  of  liumau  error  will,  in  everv  case,  become  irreparable  and 
eternal.  And  this  is  the  sort  of  comfort  gravely  offered  to  his 
sinning  and  sorrowing  fellow-men,  by  one  wlio  professes  to  be 
too  humane  and  tender-hearted  to  endure  the  Christian  sys- 
tem, with  its  divine  equities,  and  divinely  wrought  grace  and 
pardon,  offered  to  the  whole  world  without  money  and  without 
price. 

IX.  But  the  chief  ground  of  objection  whic-h  seems  to  pre- 
vail with  the  modern  impugners  of  Christianity  is  the  old  one 
of  God's  permission  of  evil  in  his  kingdom.  It  is  as  old  as  hu- 
man literature,  having  been  discussed  by  Job,  by  the  Psalmist, 
by  the  Greek  philosophers,  by  Seneca,  and  l)y  a  multitude  of 
divines  of  subsequent  ages.  The  theodicy,  or  vindication,  of 
God  from  this  cavil,  makes  a  part  of  almost  every  book  on  na- 
tural theology,  and  has  engaged  the  greatest  intellects  of  the 
world — as  a  Leibnitz,  a  Chalmers.  Of  course  I  profess  to  ad- 
vance nothing  new.  Neither  is  there  need  of  doing  it;  for  the 
recent  school  of  cavillers  advance  nothing  which  has  not  'been 
l)ondered  and  rejected  a  thousand  tiuu^s  before.  And  they  dif- 
fer from  the  more  thoughtful  and  decent  skeptics  of  previous 
days  only  in  the  superficiality  and  insolence  of  their  objec- 
tions. l>ut  I  will  use  in  dealing  with  them  a  candor  they  do  not 
employ  in  oppo.sing  us.  I  will  state  the  ditticulties  which  at- 
tend (jod's  jiermission  of  evil  frankly,  and  with  all  the  force 
which  even  the  ablest  objector  can  claim  for  them. 

The  theistic  scheme  professes  to  demonstrate  the  existence, 
attributes,  and  providence  of  God.  It  says  that  he  is  self-exist- 
ent and  the  creator  of  all  temporal  beings;  that  he  is  absolutely 
supreme  in  authority;  that  he  is  of  infinite  knowledge  and  pow- 
er; that  he  is  perfectly  holy,  and  must  therefore  prefer  holi- 
ness to  sin  in  all  rational  creatures;  and  that  he  is  infinitely 
benevolent  as  well  as  just.  The  argument  is,  that  it  is  incredi- 
ble such  a  divine  sovereign  should  freely  choose  the  prevalence 
of  evil  in  the  kingdom  which  he  made  and  absolutely  governs, 
and-.especially  that  dreadful  aggregate  of  remediless  evil  em- 
bodied in  his  hell.  But  if  he  is  incapable  of  freely  choosing 
such  horrors  they  should  have  no  ])lace  in  his  kingdom;  since 
his  knowledge  and  prescience  are  infinite,  and  his  will  effica- 
cious and  sovereign  in  his  whole  providence.  Amidst  this  cir- 
ple  of  attributes,  it  is  urged,  it  ought  to  be  impossible  that  hell 


THE    LATEST   INFIDELITY.  521 

should  find  a  place,  not  to  speak  of  the  lesser  evils  of  our  mor- 
tal state.  The  Christian  apologists  have  been  wont  to  offer 
these  jjalliations:  That  while  all  these  are  real  evils,  and  so 
repugnant  in  themselves  to  the  divine  nature,  we  actually  see 
them  made  in  his  providence  the  occasions  of  excellent  results 
and  beautiful  virtues.  Evil  evokes  the  virtue  of  fortitude,  which 
would  be  3ther\vise  not  energized.  Evil  trains  the  soul  to  pa- 
tience, submission,  and  heavenly-mindedness.  Suffering  is 
necessary  to  evoke  the  lovely  virtue  of  sympathy.  Hence  we 
may  hold  that  a  benevolent  God  permissively  ordains  the  evil, 
not  for  its  own  sake,  but  for  the  sake  of  those  results  which  it 
occasions.  This  palliation  our  oppugners  sweep  aside  with  dis- 
dain. They  say  if  your  God  is  omnipotent,  he  is  certainly  able 
to  W'ork  all  these  admirable  results  by  painless  means.  If  he  is 
benevolent,  as  you  say.  he  must  have  chosen  the  easy  means 
instead  of  the  bitter,  because  he  would  thus  have  realized  the 
whole  aggregate  of  good  and  virtue  for  liis  kingd3m.  minus  the 
miseries  of  the  present  plan.  They  confirm  this  point  by  re- 
minding the  Christians  that,  according  to  them,  there  actually 
is  a  splendid  order  of  moral  creatures  for  whom  God  has  done 
this  yerj  thing.  The  virtue  and  bliss  of  Gabriel  are  certainly 
not  inferior  to  those  promised  redeemed  men;  for  their  ^proto- 
type  ^'was  made  a  little  bwer  than  the  angels."  And  the  ut- 
most tlie  Christian's  Jesus  dares  to  promise  is  that  his  re- 
deemed shall  be  as  angelloi.  Here,  then,  they  urge,  is  a  whole 
world  of  hapi>y  and  holy  creatures,  endowed  with  every  de- 
sirable virtue,  including  sympathy  and  fortitude,  and  yet  with- 
out any  disiipline  of  evil.  Here.  then.  God  has  actually  done 
the  thing  for  them  without  the  permission  of  evil;  why  djes 
he  not  do  the  same  thing  for  human  creatures  in  the  same  way? 
Thus  the  caviller  ''refuses  to  be  comforted"  by  any  such  i»al- 
liation  as  this.  Let  us  pause  here  and  weigh  this  rejtly  care- 
fully. To  what  extent  does  it  really  damage  the  theodicy  ad- 
vanced? I  candidly  admit,  that  it  does  prove  this  class  of  jkiI- 
liations  to  be  insufficient  as  a  full  solution  of  the  difficulty. 
But  I  assert  that  the  skeptic's  position  here  is  overweening  and 
sophistical  in  this:  when  he  so  ingeniously  cites  to  us  the  fact 
that  God  does  cultivate  in  the  elect  angels,  as  free  agents,  a 
complete  bliss  and  purity  without  the  discipline  of  evil,  he  cun- 
ningly begs  the  question,  whether  God  could  succeed  in  this, 


522  THE   LATEST   IISTFIDELITY. 

not  only  without  evil  among  tliem,  but  without  evil  anj'where 
in  the  universe.  What  mortal  can  certainly  know  but  that  one 
of  the  means  whic-h  God  found  necessary  in  the  training  of  the 
elect  angels,  was  some  Avholesome  example  of  sutferiug  for  sin 
among  some  other  order  af  free  agents?  But  unless  the  skeptic 
can  certify  us  about  this,  his  instance  remains  inconclusive.  It 
is  more  important  to  remark,  that  the  facts  cited  in  the  above 
theodicy  do  give  us  a  pleasing  probability,  which  points  in  the 
direction  of  God's  consistency  in  the  permission  of  evil.  For 
the  beautiful  feature  which  is  common  in  the  results  cited  is 
that  we  here  see  providence  bringing  good  out  of  the  evil.  That 
fact  is  undeniable.  Does  the  skeptic  rejoin,  ''Yes,  but  why  didn't 
your  God  bring  about  the  whole  good,  minus  the  evil?"  I 
grant  that  this  solemn  question  is  not  answered.  But  let  it  be 
allowed  for  a  moment,  and  for  argument's  sake,  that  God  may 
see  a  good  reason,  then  the  fact  that  he  does  bring  good  out 
of  the  permitted  evil  will  be  of  invaluable  force  to  reinstate  our 
confidence  in  liis  infinite  benevolence  in  the  midst  of  the  un- 
solved mystery. 

We  proceed  now  to  the  next  advance  in  the  argument  of 
the  theodicy.  The  theologians  set  up  these  unquestionable 
premises.  There  is  no  natural  evil  in  the  universe  which  is  not 
the  result  and  penalty  of  moral  evil,  that  is  to  say,  of  sin.  God's 
higher  glory  is  to  be  a  moral  governor  of  rational  free  agents. 
If  the  creatures  are  to  remain  such  they  must  be  governed  by 
moral  inducements.  Should  God  depart  from  that  method  he 
would  derationalize  them  and  reduce  them  to  the  grade  of 
brutes.  Does  any  skeptic  desire  to  see  that  done,  and  the  crea- 
tion stripped  of  its  noblest  order?  Surely  not.  It  follows,  then, 
that  God,  in  leaving  men  their  free  agency,  must  follow  out 
punctually  this  plan  of  moral  sanctions;  and  if  his  creatures 
choose  to  sin,  he  must  needs  allow  the  penalty  to  follow  with 
the  same  regularity  with  which  his  rewards  follow  their  vir- 
tues. Moreover,  God's  distributive  righteousness  not  only  jus- 
tifies, but  requires  this  course  from  him  as  a  moral  ruler;  as 
the  chief  magistrate  of  the  universe  he  is  actually  under  moral 
obligations  to  his  own  perfections  to  be  impartial,  even  if  wilful 
transgressors  do  incur  deserved  miseries  which  his  benevolence 
wonld  fain  see  them  escape.  And  this  view  is  powerfully  rein- 
forced by  the  further  fact,  that  the  larger  part  of  the  penal 


THE   LATEST   INFIDELITY.  523 

evils  that  follow  transgression  have  not  only  a  judicial  con- 
nection, but  a  necessary  natural  connection  with  their  sins, 
that,  namely,  of  effects  with  their  efficient  causes.  There  is  a 
true  sense  in  which  it  is  not  Clod  that  volunteers  to  punish  sin, 
but  it  is  sin  which  punishes  itself.  "He  that  soweth  to  his  flesh 
shall  of  the  flesh  reap  corruption"'  (literally  perdition.  ''Sin 
when  it  is  finished  brinjieth  forth  death."  To  sum  up,  then, 
God's  permission  of  natural  evil  in  the  world  is  all  accounted 
for  by  the  presence  of  moral  evil,  that  is  to  ;say.  voluntary 
transgression,  and  the  entrance  of  the  moral  evil  is  an  incident 
liable  to  emerge  under  any  moral  government  af  free  agents. 

Still  our  skeptics  '^refuse  to  be  comforted."  They  retort, 
that  the  Christian  scheme  ascribes  to  God  regenerative  power; 
and  that  it  holds  that  he  can,  and  does,  exercise  it  in  a  multitude 
■of  cases,  without  infringing  the  free  agency  of  its  subjects,  or 
making  any  disruption  in  his  general  plan  of  governing  tliem 
by  rational  and  moral  means.  If  the  Christian's  scheme  relin- 
quished this  claim  it  would  commit  logical  suicide.  For  it  holds 
that  the  natural  heart  of  men  fallen  in  Adam  is  invariably  de- 
termined to  self-will  and  ungodliness;  hence  if  God  did  not  ex- 
ercise a  sovereign  power  of  renegeratlon.  he  coiild  never  get  une 
of  them  converted.  They  would  all  continue  with  absolute  cer- 
taint}'  to  prefer  the  unconverted  state.  The  scheme  also  claims 
that  God  has  pledged  himself  to  keep  all  redeemed  men  and 
elect  angels  in  their  heaven  forever.  But  the  voluntary  apos- 
tasy of  any  of  them  must  result  in  their  exclusion  from  heaven. 
Now,  therefore,  if  God  had  not  the  power  of  efficaciously  de- 
termining their  holiness  without  subverting  their  free  agency, 
he  has  promised  wliat  he  cannot  be  sure  of  performing,  which 
would  be  dishonest.  Once  more;  the  Christian  scheme  says, 
that  the  promises  of  grace  in  answer  to  prayer  are  all  yea  and 
amen.  So  that  if  God  had  not  this  power  these  promises  would 
also  be  uncandid.  Now.  then,  since  God  has  this  power  of  pre- 
serving the  sanctity  of  the  unfallen,  and  of  sovereignly  regen- 
erating the  fallen  (a  power  which  they  -say  he  frequently  exer- 
cises), and  if  he  foresaw  that  whenever  a  free  agent  perverted 
himself,  his  3wu  high  judicial  obligations  would  require  him  to 
bring  misery  on  that  creature,  if  he  is  infinitely  benevolent,  and 
truly  prefers  holiness  to  sinfulness  in  his  creatures,  why  did  he 
not  preserve  them  all  in  holiness  as  he  is  said  to  have  preserved 


524  THE    LATEST   INFIDELITY. 

Gabriel?  Or  why  does  he  uot  regenerate  tliem  at  once  instead 
of  ("oming  under  this  painful  necessity  of  employing  penal  mis- 
eries, which  he  foresees,  moreover,  to  be  futile  fjr  curing  their 
sinfulness?  Why  does  he  not  regenerate  Satan  instead  of  chas- 
tising him  endlessly,  and  that  without  bettering  him?  Here  is 
a  parent  who  has  a  delicate  child;  he  foresees  that  this  child  is 
liable  to  eat  a  certain  rich  but  unwholesome  viand  with  a  mor- 
bid appetite;  he  foresees  also  that  the  consequences  will  be  a 
colic.  N  »\v.  tliis  jiarent  may  be  entirely  unable  to  break  the 
pathological  connection  between  a  surfeit  and  a  colic;  but  of 
course  he  will  use  his  superior  physical  strength  to  remove  that 
dish  beyond  the  child's  reach.  If  God  is  a  parent,  why  does  he 
not  act  in  a  similar  way?  I  take  the  ablest  skeptics  to  witness 
that  I  have  extenuated  nothing,  but  have  stated  their  difficulty 
as  strongly  as  they  ever  state  it. 

There  is  here  salemn  difficulty  arising  from  our  contempla- 
tion of  the  divine  providence,  and  the  thoughtful  and  benevo- 
lent mind  will  recognize  it  most  impressively.  I  expres&ly  ad- 
mit also  that  its  exhaustive  solution  is  beyond  human  reach. 
The  dread  mystery  which  remains  after  all  the  efforts  of  human 
exiplanation  is  doubtless  one  instance  of  the  exercise  of  that 
high  prerogative  of  God  in  which  he  claims  that  secret  things 
belong  to  him,  but  the  things  which  are  revealed  belong  to  us 
and  our  children  that  we  may  do  all  the  words  of  this  law.  If 
once  the  existence  and  attributes  of  God  are  granted,  then  ev- 
ery mind  not  wickedly  and  insanely  arrogant  will  instantly  ad- 
mit tliat  it  is  reas  )nable  such  a  sovereign  should  liave  counsels 
of  his  own.  a  part  of  which  it  is  his  just  prerogative  to  reserve 
to  himself.  There  is  not  an  inferior  chief  magistrate  on  earth 
tliat  does  uot  claim  a  right  to  the  same.  Moreover,  it  is  impos- 
sible that  God  should  impart  a  full  eomprehensi:^  of  his  whole 
counsel  to  any  mind  that  is  finite  and  sinful,  even  if  we  sup- 
posed liim  to  make  the  effort.  Omnipotence  itself  could  not  put 
an  ocean  of  water  into  a  quart  pitcher.  Hut  because  God  has 
not  succeeded  in  working  this  impossibility  in  the  agnostic's 
little  clouded  mind  he  flies  off  in  a  pet,  and  says  he  will  not 
have  any  God  at  all '.  If  theism  is  true,  the  plan  of  God's  admin- 
istration is  universal  and  everlasting.  It  must,  therofore,  be 
literally  infinite.  Manifestly  even  he  cannot  put  another  iuind 
in  full  possession  of  it  without  making  that  mind  also  infinite. 


THE   LATEST   INFIDELITY.  5'?5 

Whence  it  strictly  follows  that  if  these  questioners  could  be 
gratified  by  giving  them  a  religion  without  a  mystery,  verily 
they  "should  be  as  gods."  (The  Bible  reader  knows  the  satanic 
origin  of  that  ambition.)  This  simple  argument  for  modesty 
of  thought  in  our  theology  is  powerfnlly  reinforced  by  another 
great  fact,  which  is,  that  our  acquaintance  with  all  other  sci- 
ences is  conditioned  and  limited  in  precisely  the  same  way.  And 
every  intelligent  man  knows  that  this  is  especially  true  of  those 
physical  sciences  which  the  agnostics  love  to  put  in  contrast 
with  theology  for  superior  clearness  and  certitude.  I  would 
like  to  know  how  it  is  that  they  are  all  perfectly  willing  to  be- 
lieve in  the  sciences  of  phjsics,  chemistr^^,  botany,  zoology,  as- 
tronomy, notwithstanding  the  insoluble  mysteries  involved  in 
each,  and  refuse  theism  because  of  its  mystery,  when  they  ought 
to  know  that  this  is  the  very  science  in  which  the  largest  mys- 
teries must  reasonably  be  expected.  Is  it  because  they  have  a 
special  dislike  to  the  God  whom  theism  discloses,  sharpened 
by  the  apprehension  that  he  has  a  just  dislike  for  them?  Let 
it  be  settled,  then,  that  the  real  question  in  debate  is  not 
whether  anybody  can  clear  up  the  whole  mystery  of  God's  per- 
mission of  evil,  but  whether  that  mystery  justifies  anybody  in 
repudiating  his  heavenly  Father,  and  all  the  duties  he  owes  to 
him,  which  are  the  highest  and  holiest  duties  of  his  being. 

Next,  it  must  be  settled  which  party  is  logically'  bound  to 
assume  the  burden  of  proof  on  this  question.  I  shall  now  show 
that  it  is  the  aginostic's.  For  why?  Because  the  theist  is  in 
IJossession  of  all  the  rightful  presumptive  probabilities  on  the 
other  side.  The  law  gives  every  indicted  man  the  right  to  as- 
sume his  presumptive  innocency,  and  throws  the  burden  of  the 
proof  of  his  guilt  upon  the  accuser.  So  here  the  facts  pre- 
viously demonstrated,  or  at  least  rendered  presumably  prob- 
able in  this  theistic  in(|uiry,  all  give  the  theist  the  right  to  the 
initial  presumptive.  For  instance,  "the  earth  is  full  of  the  good- 
ness of  the  Lord,"  that  is,  the  a  posteriori  marks  or  signs  of 
the  divine  benevolence  appear  in  every  department  of  creation 
and  human  experience.  The  whole  structui-e  of  the  human 
faculties  presents  the  most  beautiful  evidences  of  the  benevol- 
ence of  "the  Father  of  our  spirits."  Here  is  one  point  among 
many:  The  psychologist  finds  in  the  human  spirit  a  class  of 
affections  called  the  malevolent  affections,  that  is,  their  prac- 


526  THE    LATEST    INFIDELITY. 

tical  objective  impulse  is  to  liurt  somebody;  but  they  all  have 
this  invariable  trait  in  addition — even  the  few  among  them 
which  are  sometimes  justifiable — that  they  are  also  painful  to 
the  person  that  feels  them.  There  is  a  large  opposite  class  call- 
ed the  benevolent  affections;  their  objective  impulse  is  to  do 
good  to  somebody,  and  these  have  this  invariable  trait,  thai 
they  are  pleasant  in  their  exercise  to  the  persons  who  feel  them. 
He  is  wilfully  blind  who  cannot  see  the  design  of  this  pair  of 
general  facts.  It  is  obviously  to  discourage  and  limit  all  hurt- 
ful human  actions,  and  to  stimulate  and  reward  all  beneficent 
human  actions.  In  other  words,  the  franier  of  our  spirits  is  be 
uevolent.  But  the  most  extensive  and  grandest  disclosure  the- 
ism makes  about  God  is  of  his  righteousness,  jiind  that  both  in 
natural  and  revealed  theology.  The  ways  of  providence  are 
always  so  devised  that  virtue  is  practical  beneficence,  and  vice 
'practical  maleficence.  Therefore  when  theology  tell  us  that 
God  likes  the  former  and  hates  the  latter  more  than  he  likes  or 
hates  anything  else,  it  is  but  saying  he  is  supremely  benevolent. 
But  we  must  not  pursue  this  delightful  line  of  argument. 

Another  great  class  of  facts  which  authorize  us  to  throw 
the  burden  of  proof  upon  the  accusers  of  God's  providence,  is 
that  while  he  mysteriously  permits  evils,  it  is  his  dearest  pre- 
rogative to  bring  good  out  of  those  evils.  Are  we  to  hold,  then, 
that  God's  mysterious  permission  of  evil  has  in  his  mind  some 
sufficient  ground,  both  just  and  benevolent,  though  above  the 
reach  of  human  comprehension'/  I  say.  Yes.  Colonel  lugersoll 
saj-s,  Xo.  Here  is  the  issue  clearly  made  up  by  the  jjleadings. 
Xow  I  say  I  am  entitled  to  hold  my  side  as  presumptively  true 
until  it  is  positively  disproved.  I  say  the  burden  of  proof  lies 
on  him.  He  must  assume  it  or  the  court  will  properly  dismiss 
the  case.  The  court  says  to  him:  "Mr.  Prosecutor,  you  undertake 
to  prove  that  an  infinite  God  cannot  have  a  conscious  ground 
for  his  voluntary  permission  of  evil  in  his  kingdom  which 
satisfies  him  as  both  just  and  benevolent.  You  must  do  all  that, 
sir,  or  we  will  put  you  out  of  court.  Your  opponent,  the  theist, 
is  under  no  more  obligation  to  prove  what  that  ground  is  than 
a  citizen  indicted  for  horse-stealing  is  bound  to  prove  affirm- 
atively that  he  did  not  steal  the  horse.  He  is  entitled  to  stand 
on  the  defensive;  the  prosecutor  must  prove  that  he  did  steal 
the  horse  or  he  has  no  case.    Sir,  your  duty  here  is  similar." 


THE    LATEST   INFIDELITY.  527 

But  what  sort  of  testimony  will  this  accuser  need  iu  order 
to  prove  that  atfirmative?  ^Mauifestlv  it  must  be  a  testimony 
which  explores  the  whole  extent  of  God's  omniscience,  and  his 
whole  eternal  providence  toward  the  universe;  otherwise  it  will 
be  a  dead  failure;  for  the  defense  will  rejoin,  that  it  is  sup- 
posable  alwaj's  that  God  has  seen  his  sufficient  reason  fur  his 
permission  of  evil  in  that  portion  of  his  infinite  counsel  and 
providence  left  unexplored  by  the  witness.  The  accuser  has  as 
yet  done  nothing  etTectual  to  exclude  the  presumptive  hyp  )i he- 
sis  that  God  may  be  justifiable;  but  this  is  what  he  undertook 
to  do.  He  will  say,  perhaps,  that  his  witnesses  have  proved  so 
much  namely:  that  God  has  full  physical  power  to  make  and 
keep  all  his  creatures  holy  and  happy,  so  that  he  cannot  justify 
himself  in  his  permission  of  evil  (as  the  Pelagian  proposes  he 
shall),  by  the  plea  of  inability.  Let  the  accuser  say  that  God 
did  not  find  the  obstacle  in  the  way  of  making  his  universe  all 
holy  and  happy  in  a  lack  of  personal  power.  Granted.  But. 
may  not  his  infinite  mind  have  seen  a  proper  obstacle  in  some 
other  quarter?  That  is  the  question.  The  man  who  under- 
takes to  deny  that  ought  to  be  omniscient  himself.  In  other 
words,  the  accuser  has  undertaken  an  impossible  task.  He  has 
rashly  undertaken  to  establish  affirmatively  a  proposition  which 
none  but  infinite  beings  would  be  competent  to  discuss.  The 
decree  of  the  court  therefore  is,  ''The  indictment  is  not  proved."' 

To  this  extent,  then,  the  providence  of  God  is  not  convicted 
of  wrong.  I  again  admit  candidly  that  its  solemn  mystery  re- 
mains, and  a  questioning  mind  is  not  yet  furnished  with  an  ex- 
haustive solution. 

There  is  a  species  of  argutntnium  ad  hominem,  which,  the 
books  on  logic  tell  us,  is  unfair.  It  consists  iu  attempting  to 
transfer  some  odium  attaching  to  the  adversary  from  his  person 
to  his  proposition  and  argument.  I  shall  not  use  that  form. 
There  is  another  kind  which  consists  in  holding  the  opponent 
bound  to  any  inconvenient  or  absurd  consequences  which  pro- 
ceed logically  out  of  his  positions,  though  we  ourselves  do  not 
concede  those  positions.  This  kind  is  perfectly  fair.  The  Sa- 
viour himself  used  it  against  the  Pharisees.  I  am  entitled  to 
use  it  in  this  debate. 

In  this  direction  my  first  point  is  the  following:  The  prac- 
tical point  of  the  cavil  against  God's  permission  of  evil  is,  that, 


528  THE    LATEST    INFIDELITY. 

if  there  is  a  God,  he  is  culpable  for  it.  He  i.s  exceediii«»ly  hlaui- 
able  far  all  tlii.s  misery  which  should  have  been  prevented  by 
him.  That  is  to  say,  the  caviller  is  altoji'ether  in  sympathy  with 
these  creature  sufferers  as  against  their  hard  master.  Of  course, 
ihcn,  this  humane  and  sympathizing  caviller  is  doing  everything- 
in  his  power  to  minimize  the  hardships  so  blamably  inflicted 
upon  his  fellow-creatures.  Of  course  he  is  steadily  devoting  his 
best  energies,  his  time,  talents,  and  money,  to  repairing  the 
cruelties  which  this  bad  God  has  let  loose  upon  po;)r  fellow- 
mortals,  to  comforting  the  sorrowful,  to  supplying  their  desti- 
tutions, and  especially  to  removing  their  ignorance  and  vices 
;in(l  irrcligion,  which  he  knows  to  be  the  pracrical  j)roxiniate 
cause  of  so  much  of  these  pitiable  sorrows.  Of  course  this  just 
accuser  thinks  he  has  no  money  to  waste  upon  the  pomps  and 
luxuries  of  life,  no  time  for  any  needless  amusements,  no  time 
or  talent  ta  expend  upon  personal  ambitions  or  any  selfish  aim. 
Of  course  he  husbands  all  conscientiously  for  the  sacred  object 
of  minimizing  these  evils  of  human  existence,  and  mending  so 
much  as  may  be  mended  of  the  neglects  of  this  cruel  God.  If 
he  does  not,  is  he  not  himself  like  the  cruel  God?  Is  not  this 
accusation  of  (xod,  coming  from  such  as  he.  too  much  like 
"Satan  reproving  sin?''  Does  this  agnostic  waste  any  money 
upon  Havana  cigars  and  costly  wines,  which  he  would  be  better 
without ;  upon  expensive  architecture  and  furniture,  where  he 
sees  more  honored  men  than  himself  do  with  plainer;  upon  par- 
tisan political  campaigns,  which,  whichever  way  they  go,  only 
leave  the  country  more  corrupt — sacred  moneA'  which  might 
have  been  used  to  ease  the  sick  of  their  agonies,  to  feed  the 
starving,  to  wipe  the  tears  from  the  face  of  the  orphan,  to  make 
the  desolate  widow's  heart  sing  for  joy,  to  dissipate  the  ignor- 
ance and  vice  and  ungodliness  from  the  heart  of  the  yauth  wlio 
must  otherwise  reap  the  harvest  of  temporal  perdition  from 
these  seeds?  I  bring  no  charge;  but  I  submit  that,  unless  the 
agnostic  is  truly  acting  in  this  i)hilanthropic  way,  decency 
should  close  liis  mouth.  For  shame's  sake  let  him  not  blame 
God  for  the  results  of  a  neglect  which  he  himself  practices. 

The  most  probable  rejoinder  of  the  agnostic  will  be,  that 
he  sees  the  majority  of  the  professed  Christians  also  practicing 
this  unphilanthropic  neglect.  My  answer  is,  that  I  admit  with 
sorrow  that  it  is  partly  true.    It  is  also  true  that  nearly  all  the 


The  latest  infidelity.  521) 

great  and  blessed  charities  of  this  poor  world  come  from  these 
imperfect  Christians.  How  much  of  them  comes  from  agnos- 
tics? I  do  not  know.  But  let  that  pass.  My  w'ord  to  the  agnos- 
tic is  this:  sujjpose  we  let  this  good  exalted  God  alone,  and  turn 
all  the  blows  of  our  criticisms  on  these  inconsistent  Cliiistians. 
I  sa}'  to  the  agnostic,  with  all  m\'  heart,  "Lay  it  on  them  well; 
but  let  alone  the  heavenly  Father  whom  they  misrepresent." 

My  second  point  is  this:  When  we  showed  in  defense  of 
the  divine  providence  that,  supposing  free  agents  choose  to  sin, 
their  suffering  ought  to  follow,  and  must  follow,  because  judi- 
cial fidelity  requires  it,  and  because  sin  is  suffering;  the  reply 
of  the  agnostic  was  this:  that  if  there  is  a  God,  he  must  have 
foreseen  that,  and  he  ought  to  have  felt  bound  to  protect  his 
moral  creatures  from  sinning  by  making  their  souls  holy,  or 
else  regenerating  them  when  they  made  themselves  unholy. 
And  we  saw  that  this  is  really  the  agnostic's  final  stand  in  this 
contest.  I  will' now  ask  a  typical  agnostic,  say  Colonel  Inger- 
soll,  "Sir,  how  'would  you  like  God  to  regenerate  you?"  Per- 
haps he  will  seek  to  evade  me  by  answering,  "But  I  do  not  now 
believe  there  is  any  God  or  regeneration."  "Yes;  but  suppos- 
ing you  did  believe  them,  how  would  you  like  to  be  regenerated 
3-ourself?  *Stay,  do  not  answer  till  I  tell  you  what  this  means. 
Regeneration  means  a  complete  revolution  of  the  principles  and 
ends  of  life.  It  means  surrendering  ambition  and  worldinesss 
for  spiritual  good.  It  means  the  absolute  subjugation  of  self- 
will  under  a  superior  and  sovereign  will,  which  will  order  you 
to  obey  and  ask  no  questions.  It  means  a  thoroughgoing  cru- 
cifixion of  natural  pride.  It  means  the  instant  surrender  of  all 
cherished  sins.  It  means  the  honest  assumption  for  the  whole 
remaining  life  of  a  career  of  new  duties,  many  of  which  are 
known  to  be  repugnant,  and  all  arduous.  It  means  praying, 
and  Bible-reading,  and  watching  one's  self.  It  means,  in  a  word, 
taking  up  for  life  the  yoke  of  a  complete  self-denial  and  self- 
surrender.  Regenerate  persons  will  tell  you  that  still  they 
have  found  a  new  species  of  spiritual  happiness  in  this  arduous 
cross-bearing.  But  that  pleasure  is  to  you  purely  visionary,  as 
you  never  felt  anything  like  it.  The  Bible  also  tells  you  that 
this  regeneration  will  finally  bring  you,  after  a  severe  disci- 
pline, the  happiness  of  heaven.  But  that  is  all  out  of  sight  to 
you,  lying  beyond  the  boundaries  of  this  world,  which  now  en- 


530  THE    LATEST   INFIDELITY. 

close  all  your  wishes  and  aspirations — so  completely  enclose 
them  that  you  remain  in  doubt  whether  it  would  not  be  better 
for  you  to  die  like  a  pig  than  to  have  any  future  world.    Now, 
Sir,  you  told  us  there  was  a  time  when  you  had  a  speculative  be- 
lief in  Ood  and  his  gospel.    At  that  time  how  would  you  have 
liked  this  regeneration  for  yourself?    You  know  very  well  that 
you  disliked  and  resisted  it  with  every  fibre  ,of    your     heart. 
Sometimes  when  conscience  seemed  to  be  leading  you  towards 
it,  you  recalcitrated,  silently  perhaps,  but  with  the  stubbornness 
'Of  a  w'ild  bull  in  a  net.    You  jealously  cherished  your  self-will, 
your  pride,  your  worldliness.    You  would  have  blushed  to  have 
been  caught  praying.     One  chief  source  of  that  secret  but  in- 
veterate enmity  which  your  heart  cherished  toward  the  gospel 
was  just  this:  that  it  required  of  you  such  a  regeneration  and 
also  offered  it  to  you  as  a  boon.    Well,  you  are  the  same  man 
yet  in  heart.    The  child  has  been  father  to  the  man.     Could  I 
re-convince  your  speculative  intellect  that  thi/S  gospel  which 
you  have  discarded  is  true,  the  desperate  repugnance  to  its  re- 
generation would  doubtless  revive  in  you.     Kemember,  now, 
that  we  have  agreed  that  there  was  one  final  method  feasible 
for  God,  by  using  which  he  could  have  rescued  all  his  creatures 
effectually  from  all  moral  and  physical  evil,  namely,  the  regen- 
eration I  have  described;  and  the  very  gravamen   of  your  accu- 
sation against  God  is  that  he  ought  to  employ  that  method  in 
every  case,  but  does  not.     But,  lo!  when  this  kind  God  comes 
to  you  and  says,  'Ingersoll,  let  me  take  you  at  your  w^ord;  let 
me  regenerate  you,  here  and  now,  and  thus  bestow  on  you  this 
glorious  and  eternal  security,'  you  are  violently  opposed  to  his 
doing  it.    Here  is  the  one  and  only  way  which  remained  to  God 
for  avoiding  the  permission  of  any  evil  in  his  kingdom,  and  to 
this  way  you  have  as  to  yourself  a  violent  objection.    There  is 
one  medicine  with  which  God  could  have  cured  the  whole  mat- 
ter.   You  have  been  blaming  him  vehemently  because  he  has 
not  administered  it  to  everybody;  but  when  he  offers  the  cup 
to  you,  you  repel  it  with  abhorrence.     Do  not  you  think.  Sir, 
that  for  shame's  sake  it  is  time  for  you  to  stop  blaming  him?" 
I  have  just  asserted  the  innate  enmity  of  the  human  heart 
to  God's  law.    Here  is  a  consideration  which  has  a  vital  influ- 
ence on  this  discussion,  but  for  which  agnostics  never  make 
allowance.    Yet,  ^'whether  they  will  hear,  or  whether  they  will 


THE   LATEST  INFIDELITY.  531 

forbear,"  it  is  the  right  of  the  Christian  pursuing  this  discus- 
sion, and  his  high  duty,  to  bear  his  serious  testimony  to  this 
indisputable  fact  of  human  nature.  The  point  it  contains  is 
very  plain,  that  a  person  who  has  a  fixed  and  wrongful  hatred 
to  a  government  cannot  be  a  just  and  correct  critic  of  it.  Wliat 
man  endued  with  common  sense  will  gainsa}-  that?  And  the 
agnostics  stubbornly  refuse  this  caution  and  protest  their  im- 
partiality, when  to  everybody  else  but  themselves  their  invet- 
erate hostility  to  the  holiness  of  God's  law  is  apparent!  But  I 
claim  mare.  We  are  all  voluntary  culprits.  We  are  all  obnox 
ious  to  the  displeasure  of  the  divine  Judge.  If  his  grace  does 
not  arrest  us  we  all  continue  pertinacious  transgressors,  and  this 
justifies  his  continued  retributions.  Now,  ever}'  item  of  that 
aggregate  of  misery  which  presents  the  pretext  of  the  cavil,  is 
the  just  judicial  consequence  of  the  creature's  own  voluntary 
sin.  There  is  not  a  pang  of  natural  evil  in  the  moral  universe 
which  is  not  the  appropriate  fruit  of  transgression.  Hence, 
however  hard  to  bear  that  natural  evil  may  be,  the  culprits  are 
certainly  not  the  parties  that  are  entitled  to  accuse  the  govern- 
ment. As  soon  as  they  appreciate  their  own  guilt  they  always 
learn  that  this  is  outrageously  unseemly.  If  any  criticism  of 
the  divine  management  is  to  be  made  by  any  finite  intellect, 
it  ought  to  be  at  least  an  unfallen  intellect,  without  sin  of  its 
own.  The  effectual  way,  then,  of  terminating  these  indict- 
ments of  God  would  be  for  the  agnostics  to  learn  the  real  qual- 
ity and  aggravations  of  their  own  sins  of  heart,  nature,  and  life. 
And  could  I  teach  them  this,  I  should  be  conferring  on  them 
the  most  inestimable  blessing.  Not  only  would  this  sinful  de- 
bate end  absolutely,  but  this  righteous  humiliation  of  their  own 
spirits  would  prove  to  them  the  beginning  of  everlasting  good. 
Job  was  tempted  to  be  an  agnostic,  and  to  make  tedious  efforts 
to  argue  himself  into  the  assertion  of  God's  harshness.  His  ef- 
fectual cure  came  only  when  he  was  compelled  to  say:  "I 
have  heard  of  thee  by  the  hearing  of  the  ear;  but  now  mine 
eye  seeth  thee;  wherefore  I  abhor  myself,  and  repent  in  dust 
and  ashes."  The  best  wish  I  can  otfer  to  all  the  agnostics  is, 
that  they  may  become  honest  enough  with  themselves  to  look 
fairly  at  God  until  they  appreciate  his  infinite  sovereignty,  wis- 
dom, justice,  and  benevolence,  and  learn  in  the  light  of  his  holi- 
ness to  see  the  exceeding  sinfulness  of  their  own  sin.    All  this 


582  THE   LATEST   INFIDELITY. 

debate  will  then  be  happily  ended  for  tliem  as  well  as  for  us. 

One  more  point  remains  of  this  branch  of  my  reply.  I  make 
it  by  asking  them  what  will  be  gained  for  them  and  their  fel- 
low-men if  they  establish  their  indictment?  What  will  they 
have  proved?  This:  that  the  theistic  scheme  of  the  universe  is 
incredible,  because  of  the  prevalence  in  it  of  this  dreadful  mass 
of  natural  and  moral  evil.  That  is,  the  doctrine  of  a  personal, 
rational  God  is  abolished.  What  hypothesis  of  the  universe  is 
left  us?  Only  the  materialistic  and  mechanical  one.  The  flow 
of  events  in  the  universe  is  not  directed  by  any  personal  or 
moral  will  at  all.  (Certainly  our  wills  are  impotent  to  control 
it.)  All  is  governed  by  natural  laws,  which  can  mean  nothing 
more  than  the  irrevocable  methods  of  blind  natural  forces. 
These  forces  are  unknowing  and  reasonless;  they  are  resistless; 
they  are  eternal;  they  are  unchangeable.  They  can  no  more 
be  prayed  to  than  the  whirlwind  can.  Thus  the  agnostic,  in  re- 
jecting theism,  unavoidably  gives  us  the  scheme  of  a  universal 
mechanical  fate.    His  universe  is  but  an  immense  machine. 

Now,  I  solemnly  ask  him:  By  forcing  upon  us  this  ghastly 
doctrine,  has  he  diminished  one  iota  of  this  volume  of  miseries, 
the  conception  of  which  so  distresses  us  all?  Does  he  stop  the 
flow  of  a  single  tear?  Does  he  arrest  a  single  pang  of  disease? 
Does  he  diminish  by  one  unit  the  awful  catalogue  of  deaths? 
Does  he  take  anything  from  the  reality  of  any  single  human 
bereavement?  Is  there  one  particle  of  agency  in  this  doctrine 
to  check  in  any  soul  that  sinfulness  which  is  the  spring  of  all 
our  woes?  None.  Even  agnostic  arrogance  does  not  dare  to 
claim  it.  On  his  scheme  every  evil  which  he  so  bitterly  objects 
against  Grod's  scheme  remains.  All  that  he  has  done  is  to  rob 
sufi'ering  humanity  of  its  sole  true  consolation,  which  is  found 
in  that  fact  the  gospel  alone  shows  us,  that  it  is  the  darling 
prerogative  of  the  Father  of  mercies  to  bring  good  out  of  this 
sore  evil  for  all  who  will  accept  his  grace  and  make  it  work 
out,  bitter  as  it  may  be  now,  "a  far  more  exceeding  and  eternal 
weight  of  glory."  Thus  their  doctrine  can  take  nothing  from 
the  miseries  of  mankind;  all  it  can  do  is  to  rob  men  of  the  only 
possible  solace,  and  to  tell  them  while  they  suffer  that  their 
woes  are  as  futile  of  better  results  as  they  are  inevitable.  In 
a  word,  they  give  us  as  the  true  conception  of  our  existence  this 
somber  picture,  which  F.  D.  Strauss  substantially  avows  at  the 


THE   LATEST   INFIDELITY.  533 

end  of  his  great  agnostic  argument.  Our  world  is  a  huge  and 
terrible  machine  of  stone  and  iron;  its  motive  jiower  eternal, 
resistless,  and  blind;  its  revolutions  impossible  to  be  ever  ar- 
rested or  changed  in  the  least,  and  the  corn  between  its  upper 
and  nether  millstones  is  an  ever-flowing  stream  of  human 
hearts,  with  all  their  precious  affections  and  hopes  and  keen 
sensibilities,  bleeding  and  crushed  under  the  remorseless  grind. 
And  to  the  yawning  jaws  of  this  hellish  mill  each  one  of  us 
knows  he  is  traveling,  and  must  be  caught  by  them  sooner  or 
later. 

And  this  is  the  scheme  pressed  upan  us  by  gentlemen  who 
affect  too  much  humane  sensibility  to  endure  the  harsh  injustice 
of  God's  gospel!  What,  is  this  scheme  rejected  for  this  doc- 
trine of  despair?  I  repeat,  it  is  the  one  which,  while  it  recog- 
nizes God's  holy  sovereignty  and  right  to  punish  sin,  and  to 
keep  in  his  own  breast  the  dread  secrets  of  his  infinite  purpose, 
teaches  us  his  wise,  merciful,  and  holy  control  over  this  terrible 
blind  machine  of  nature,  and  offers  to  all  who  do  not  contuma- 
ciously reject  his  goodness  an  almighty  redemption  which  ter- 
minates these  sufferings  of  time  into  eternal  blessings.  May 
God  save  us  all  from  such  humanity  as  that  of  the  agnostics  I 

Proceeding  now  to  a  more  independent  line  of  attack.  I  re- 
quest the  reader  to  inspect  the  process  of  the  agnostic's  logic  at 
its  cardinal  place.  It  is  simply  thisr  the  line  of  argument  for 
the  being,  attributes,  and  providence  of  God  leads  him  up  to  a 
great  mystery,  which  cannot  be  fully  resolved  for  him.  What 
then?  He  will  stop  and  weigh  the  amount  of  validity  it  may 
contain,  notwithstanding  the  mystery  in  its  conclusion.  Now, 
all  men  would  deem  this  mere  logical  lunacy  if  applied  to  any 
other  line  of  evidence.  We  know  very  well  that  evidence  ap- 
parently valid  which  leads  to  an  inevitable  self-contradiction  is 
defeated  by  its  own  result,  whether  we  can  put  our  finger  upon 
its  flaw  or  not.  We  justly  claim  that  it  cannot  be  correct.  This, 
in  fact,  is  the  quality  of  the  disi»roof  of  an  argument  by  the  re- 
ductio  ad  absurdum.  But  manifestly  the  case  which  the  agnos- 
tic has  made  against  theism  is  wholly  different.  A  mystery  in 
our  conclusion  is  not  a  necessary  self-contradiction;  that  it  can- 
not be  shown  to  be  such,  follows  from  the  very  fact  that  it  is  a 
mystery.  Since  we  cannot  comprehend  it,  we  cannot  assert  its 
contradictoriness.    And  this  I  confirm  by  the  assertion  that  ev- 


534  THE    LATEST    INFIDELITY. 

cvy  other  Hue  of  scientific  evidence,  in  every  department  of  hu- 
man Ivnowledge,  leads  sooner  or  later  to  some  such  insoluble 
mj^stery.  So  that,  if  the  agnostic's  method  of  procedure  against 
theism  were  proper,  he  ought  to  reject  every  science  known  to 
man  and  announce  himself  an  absolute  ignoramus. 

For  instance,  what  physicist  can  answer  this  question: 
What  is  electricity?  There  is  good  and  sufficient  empirical  evi- 
dence that  this  mysterious  energy  exists;  but  what  is  it?  Why 
does  it  imbue  some  material  bodies  and  not  others?  Why  do 
only  a  few  conduct  it  fully?  If  it  is  ponderable  matter,  why 
cannot  the  chemist  weigh  it  in  his  most  delicate  scales?  If  it 
is  not,  how  does  it  hit  hard  enough  to  rive  the  gnarled  oak? 
Every  good  physicist  knows  he  cannot  answer  these  questions. 
Every  agnostic,  then,  ought  to  say,  if  he  will  be  consistent,  and 
proceed  in  physics  as  he  does  in  theology,  "I  will  have  none  of 
this  science  of  electricity.  I  will  not  avail  myself  of  its  con- 
veniences, lightning-rod,  telegraph,  electric  light,  electric  mo- 
tors. I  will  not  believe  in  electricity;  even  if  the  lightning 
strikes  me  I  will  not  believe  in  it."  The  intelligent  reader 
knows  that  if  I  cared  to  detain  him,  I  could  cite  instances  equal- 
ly pungent  from  every  one  of  those  physical  sciences  which  ag- 
nostics love  to  place  in  contrast  with  theology  for  their  superior 
clearness.  Now  my  point  is,  that  no  man  can  proceed  upon  this 
wilful  method,  which  the  agnostics  would  have  us  apply  to  the 
theistic  argument,  without  incurring  the  charge  of  lunacy.  But 
they  ought  to  be  more  willing  to  apply  that  wanton  method  in 
physics  than  in  theology;  because  in  the  latter  we  have  more 
ground  to  expect  mysteries  from  the  infinitude  of  the  Being 
whom  we  study.  When  a  line  of  evidence  leads  a  sensible  man 
to  a  startling  and  mysterious  conclusion,  what  does  he  do?  He 
would  be  prompted  to  revise  the  evidence  carefully.  That  is 
all.  If  he  finds  it  valid,  he  admits  the  conclusion  in  spite  of  the 
mj'stery.  The  sensible  man  bestows  credence  upon  any  propo- 
sition in  any  science,  not  because  he  comprehends  the  predicate, 
but  because  he  apprehends  perspicuous  evidence  supporting  the 
copula.  Now  the  several  lines  of  evidence,  rational  and  scrip- 
tural, for  the  being,  attributes,  and  providence  of  God,  are  of 
invincible  force;  they  cannot  be  resisted  in  their  own  appro- 
priate spheres.  Every  successive  attempt  to  weaken  them  in 
that  way  perishes  under  the  light  of  true  philosophy.    I  con- 


THE    LATEST   INFIDELITY.  535 

elude  this  point  by  firmly  asserting  that  agnostics  have  no  right 
thus  to  discount  the  whole  force  of  this  evidence,  treating  it  as 
nju-existent.  when  it  has  so  substantial  an  existence,  not  be- 
cause they  can  refute  it,  but  simply  because  they  do  not  like  its 
result.    The  process  is  utterly  illicit. 

Superficial  opponents  of  God's  retributive  justice  frequent- 
ly argue  that  this  is  a  different  attribute  from  his  love,  and  in- 
deed so  antithetic  that  they  cannot  find  a  place  for  it  in  a  na- 
ture declared  to  be  infinite  love.    A  little  correct  thinking  will 
show  that  this  reasoning  is  not  only  groundless,  but  absurd. 
In  fact,  the  principle  of  righteousness  in  every  moral  being  is 
not  dual,  but  single.    The  plurality  of  its  actions  arises  solely 
from  the  contrast  of  the  objects  to  which  the  principle  directs 
itself.    The  magnetic  needle  in  the  compass  is  endued  with  one 
energy  or  magnetic  principle,  not  two.    This  single  energy  will 
cause  either  end  of  the  needle  to  act  in  opposite  ways  to  the  two 
opposite  poles  of  the  earth;  and  because  the  upper  end  is  at- 
tracted towards  the  north  pole,  for  that  very  reason  it  is  re- 
pelled from  the  south  pole.    I  prove  it  by  this  fact,  that  it  is 
impossible  to  make  a  needle  such  that  its  upper  end  would  be 
attracted  to  the  north  pole  and  not  repelled  from  the  south  pole. 
Should  any  sailor  tell  you  that  he  had  such  a  needle,  nobody 
would  believe  him.     This  instance  presents  us  with  a  correct 
parallel  to  the  action  of  the  moral  principle  in  a  moral  agent. 
The  principle  is  and  can  be  only  one.    It  acts  in  opposite  ways 
towards  virtuous  and  vicious  objects,  because  it  is  one,  and  'be- 
cause it  rationally  appreliends  the  objects  as  opposites.    Hence 
it  follows,  that  this  central  principle  would  not  be  capable  of 
acting  in  the  amiable  way  of  approbation,  complacency  and  re- 
ward towards  a  virtuous  object,  unless  it  were  certain   from  its 
own  nature  to  act  in  the  opposite  and  severer  way  of  reprehen- 
sion towards  towards  a  vicious  and  repulsive  object.    I  repeat, 
that  unless  this  principle  is  so  constituted  as  to  repel  the  re- 
pulsive action,  it  cannot  be  so  constituted  as  to  be  attracted  to 
the  attractive  action.     One  might  as  well  talk  of  a  yard-stick 
with  only  one  end,  or  of  a  house  with  its  south  side,  and  no 
north  side.    Every  man  when  he  thinks  knows  that  this  is  the 
condition  upon  whicli  all  correct  moral  principle  exists,  and  he 
is  incredulous  about  any  other.    Let  me  construct  a  little  para- 
ble.   I  ask  the  agnostic,  or  the  universalist,  to  come  with  me 


58G  THE   LATEST   INFIDELITY 

aud  watch  the  proceedings  of  a  certain  stranger,  of  whom  all  we 
know  as  jet  is  that  he  claims  a  high  reputation  for  amiability, 
philanthropy,  equity  and  charity.  He  tells  us  that  it  is  a  peren- 
nial pleasure  to  him  to  witness  and  reward  all  benevolent  and 
generous  actions.  I  say  to  him.  ^'Stranger,  so  far,  well.  I  must 
now  point  you  an  opi)osite  object.  There  stands  a  young  repro- 
bate, the  son  of  a  devoted  widowed  mother,  who  is  known  to 
have  robbed  her  of  her  little  property,  to  neglect  her  wants  in 
her  destitution,  to  heap  reproaches  and  curses  upon  her.  and 
even  to  strike  her  venerable  face.  What  are  your  feelings 
towards  that  object?"  We  suppose  the  stranger  to  answer,  "Oh, 
sir,  I  assure  you  I  am  too  thoroughly  amia^ble  to  have  any  feel- 
ing about  it.  True,  I  see  nothing  in  it  to  admire,  but  I  am  too 
affectionate  to  detest  anything.  I  have  no  feeling  at  all  towards 
that  reprobate."  I  ask,  would  anybody  believe  him?  Or,  if  we 
believe  his  statement  that  he  felt  no  reprehension  for  so  de- 
testable a  son,  must  we  not  set  him  down  also  as  a  cold-blood- 
ed villain,  whose  pretended  charity  was  all  sheer  hypocrisy? 
Such  is  the  judgment  of  every  man's  common  sense. 

Let  us  pass  now  from  the  virtuous  principle  in  man  to 
God.  I  assert  that  my  argument  only  'becomes  the  stronger. 
The  perfectness  of  God's  virtues  only  renders  it  more  conclu- 
sive, because  the  purity,  the  equity,  the  truth,  the  love  of  God 
are  infinite.  It  is  therefore  only  the  more  certain  that  the  cen- 
tral principle  which  makes  him  approve  and  love  the  virtuous 
must  prompt  him  to  reprehend  the  vicious.  Men  vainly  imag- 
ine that  it  would  be  a  delightful  theology  to  have  a  God  so 
amiable  as  to  be  sure  to  reward  all  good  things.  Taut  also  too 
amiable  to  be  capable  of  punishing  any  evil  thing.  They  de- 
mand an  impossibility.  The  only  way  to  reach  it  would  be  to 
have  a  God  without  any  moral  qualities  at  all.  Who  would 
wish  to  live  under  an  omniscient  and  omnipotent  Ruler  who 
was  not  capable  of  knowing  or  caring  whether  he  was  reward- 
ing the  wicked  and  punishing  the  good?  If  we  must  desire 
such  moral  principle  in  our  Supreme  Ruler  as  will  be  always 
certain  of  acting  amiably  and  justly  towards  the  good,  then 
w^e  must  be  willing  that  he  shall  be  equally  certain  to  repre- 
hend the  wicked.  If  they  would  have  a  God  too  amiable  to 
maintain  a  hell,  they  must  accept  one  who  is  also  too  careless 
and  heartless  to  provide  any  heaven. 


THE   LATEST   INFIDELITY.  537 

Does  oue  say  that  still  the  mysterj'  of  Grod's  permission  of 
evil  is  not  fully  explained?  I  did  not  promise  to  explain  it 
fully,  which  I  believe  will  never  be  done  in  this  world.  What 
I  pr3mised  was  to  satisfy  the  just  and  humble  mind  that  God 
has  his  sufficient  explanation,  which  we  are  sure  is  consistent 
with  his  wisdom,  benevolence,  and  holiness,  without  knowinj]j 
what  it  is.  Natural  theology  gives  sufficient  ground  for  this 
consoling  conclusion  from  its  splendid  evidences  that  he  is  all- 
wise,  righteous,  and  benevolent,  which  have  their  prepander- 
ating  force  notwithstanding  the  unanswered  question,  and  es- 
pecially from  this  important  trait,  which  runs  through  the 
whole  mystery,  that  the  plan  of  his  providence  is  to  bring  good 
out  of  the  evil. 

But  revealed  theology  gives  us  a  crjwning  and  all-sulfi- 
cient  satisfaction.  It  is  found  in  the  fact  that  Grod  is  so  in- 
finite in  benevolence  and  mercy,  that  at  his  own  mere  option 
he  has  made  tin?  supreme  sacrifice  for  the  redemption  of  his 
enemies.  He  provides  this  infinite  blessing  for  them  at  the 
cost  of  the  humiliation  and  death  of  his  eternally  begotten 
and  co-equal  Sou,  whom  he  knows  to  outrank,  in  the  dimen- 
sions of  his  infinite  being  and  in  his  moral  desert,  all  his  ra- 
tional creatures  combined  together.  The  gospel  tells  us  that 
this  transcendent  sacrifice  will  not  redeem  the  apostate  an- 
gels, and  will  not  receive  full  application  to  all  human  beings. 
These  are  awful  truths.  But.  be  the  cause  of  this  limitation 
found  where  it  may,  it  cannot  be  sought  in  any  lack  or  stint  of 
goodness  in  God.  For  had  there  been  any  such  stint  in  his 
nature,  one  fibre  of  neglect,  or  injustice,  or  cruelty,  this  would 
inevitably  have  prevented  thf  supreme  sacrifice  for  the  behoof 
of  any  one.  There  is  the  triumphant  theodicy  in  the  infinite 
love  which  prompted  redemption — redemption  as  apprehended 
by  the  evangelical  triuitarian.  There,  no  doubt,  is  the  supreme 
glory  of  this  gospel  by  which  the  apostle  tells  us  God  is  mak- 
ing known  to  all  worlds  his  manifold  wisdom  through  the 
church  of  ransomed  men.  I  will  set  forth  the  point  of  this 
argument  in  a  closing  parable.  We  see  a  surgeon  enter  a  dwell- 
ing. A  mother  calls  to  her  pallid,  limping  child,  and  seizes 
her  in  her  arms.  The  surgeon  produces  one  of  those  treacher- 
ous cases — so  beautiful  without  with  their  ornamented  woods 
and  gilded  clasps,  so  terrible  within  with  the  cold  glitter  of 


538  THE   LATEST   INFIDELITY. 

forceps,  bistouries,  amputating-lmives,  aud  bone-saws.  The 
child  beholds  with  wide-eved  wonder  and  then  with  terror,  ere 
she  perceives  that  these  instruments  are  to  be  employed  on  her 
body.  As  the  surgeon  approaches  she  appeals  to  her  mother 
with  agonizing  screams  and  tears:  "Oh,  mother,  mother,  save 
me!"  But  we  see  the  woman,  with  stern  eye,  compressed  lips, 
and  pallid  cheek,  bare  the  child's  swollen  joint,  and  hold  her 
struggling  in  her  relentless  arms,  w^hile  the  cruel  knife  cuts  the 
tender  skin,  carves  the  bleeding  flesh,  and  pierces  even  to  the 
very  marrow  of  the  diseased  joint.  Is  this  a  mother  or  a  tig- 
ress? The  simple  explanation  is,  that  she  is  a  true  mother, 
wise  and  tender,  who  knows  that  this  severe  remedy  is  needed 
to  save  the  precious  life  of  her  child,  who  would  otherwise  be 
the  victim  of  a  slow,  loathsome,  and  torturing  death.  Has  she 
not  shown  the  truest  love?  and  has  not  her  fidelity  cost  her  in- 
ward pangs  of  sympathy  more  cruel  than  the  bodily  smart  of 
the  surgery,  which  she  has  lieroically  borne  for  love's  salce? 
But  now  stei)s  forward  the  caviller,  and  says:  ''Stop,  this 
w^onian  is  herself  a  wondrous  leech.  She  knows  all  healing  lo- 
tions, and  all  the  herbs  of  virtue,  some  of  which  would  have 
cured  the  diseased  limb  without  a  pang  while  the  child  slept; 
or,  at  least,  she  could  have  secured  for  her  child  the  uncon- 
sciousness wiiich  chloroform  gives  during  the  operation.  Why, 
then,  did  she  not  use  the  gentler  means  to  save  this  life,  when 
she  had  them  at  her  option?  No,  she  must  ibe  intrinsically 
cruel  and  heartless.  She  must  find  pleasure  in  the  gratuitous 
suffering  of  her  own  child."  I  am  compelled  to  reply:  "I  do 
not  know  her  reasons.  Her  social  station  is  far  above  mine. 
She  has  never  taken  me  into  her  domestic  confidence.  I  had  no 
right  to  demand  that  she  should.  But  I  can  testify  to  auotlier 
fact.  A  few  months  ago  the  cry  of  fire  drew  me  to  a  dwelling 
not  far  from  this  place  which  was  wrapped  in  flames,  and  evi- 
dently near  the  final  crash.  The  parents  had  (been  busy  rescu- 
ing their  children,  and,  for  the  moment,  supposed  they  had 
saved  them  all.  But  a  cry  issued  from  another  window.  A  lit- 
tle white-robed  figure  was  seen  at  it  through  the  eddying  smoke, 
crying:  'Father,  mother!  O  save  me.'  All  declared  that  it  was 
too  late.  Even  the  father,  amidst  his  bitter  tears,  acquiesced. 
But  I  saw  the  mother  tear  herself  from  the  restraining  hands 
of  the  firemen,  who  told  her  that  any  effort  at  rescue  was  mad- 


THE   LATEST   INFIDELITY.  539 

ness  aud  suicide,  leaving  tlie  shreds  uf  lier  raiiueut  in  their 
clutches,  aud  dart  up  the  fuming  stairway.  The  stern  men 
turned  their  faces  away  from  the  horror  and  stood  wringing 
their  hands.  But  in  a  minute  the  woman  returned,  her  sill^en 
tresses  bhizing,  her  garments  on  fire,  one  of  her  fair  cheeks 
scorched,  shrivelled  by  the  blast,  one  eye  blistered  in  the  socket, 
but  with  her  child  in  her  arms  wrapped  safely  in  a  blanket. 
After  only  pausing  to  extinguish  the  flames  that  were  threat- 
ening her  life,  I  saw  her  fall  on  her  knees,  and  say:  'Thank 
God;  I  have  saved  my  child.'  Pass  around  this  lady's  chair, 
Mr.  Caviller,  you  will  see  upon  the  other  side  of  her  face  the 
scars  of  that  rescue  which,  in  one  moment,  blighted  the  beauty 
of  her  young  motherhood  for  life.  This  is  that  mother;  and 
this  is  the  same  child.  Now,  sir,  I  cannot  satisfy  your  curiosity 
about  the  disuse  of  the  chloroform,  but  I  know  tMs  'heroic 
mother's  heart  has  its  reason.  For  why?  Because  I  saw  her 
make  the  supreme  sacrifice  for  this  child.  After  such  a  demon- 
stration of  boundless  love,  your  cavil  is  impertinent,  if  not 
brutal." 


THE  ATTRACnONS  OF  POPERY. 


1)1-.  Joliu  H.  Kice.  with  the  intuition  of  a  gix'ixi  mind,  warn- 
ed Presbyrei-iaus  against  a  renewed  prevalence  of  popery  in  our 
Protestant  land.  This  was  when  it  was  so  insignificant  among 
us  as  to  be  almost  unnoticed.  Many  were  surprised  at  his  pro- 
phecy, and  not  a  few  mocked;  but  time  has  fulfilled  it.  Our 
leaders  from  1830  to  1860  understood  well  the  causes  of  this 
danger.  They  were  diligent  to  inform  and  prepare  the  minds  of 
their  people  against  it.  Hence  General  Assemblies  and  Synods 
appointed  annual  sermons  upon  popery,  and  our  teachers  did 
their  best  to  arouse  the  minds  of  the  people.  Now,  all  this  has 
mainly  passed  away,  and  we  are  relaxing  our  resistance  against 
the  dreaded  foe  just  in  proportion  as  he  grows  more  formidable. 
It  has  become  the  fashion  to  condenm  controversy  and  to  affect 
the  widest  charity  for  this  and  all  other  foes  of  Christ  and  of 
souls.  High  Presbyterian  authority  even  is  quoted  as  saying, 
that  henceforth  our  concern  v.ith  Romanism  should  be  chiefly 
irenicall  The  figures  presented  by  the  census  of  1890  are  con- 
strued in  opposite  ways.  This  gives  the  papists  more  than  four- 
teen millions  of  adherents  in  the  United  States,  where  ninety 
years  ago  there  were  but  a  few  thousands.  Such  Protestamt 
journals  as  think  it  their  interest  to  play  sycophants  to  public 
opinion  try  to  persuade  us  that  these  figures  are  very  consoling  ;g 
because,  if  Kome  had  kept  all  the  natural  increase  of  her  immi- 
grations the  numbers  would  have  been  larger.  But  Rome  points 
to  them  with  insolent  triumph  as  prognostics  of  an  assured  vic- 
tory over  Protestantism  on  this  continent.  Which  will  prove 
correct? 

Both  logic  and  Holy  Writ  teach  us  that  "the  thing  which 
hath  been  is  the  thing  which  shall  be."  Like  c^iuses  must  be 
expected  to  produce  like  effects.  For  Presbj'terians  of  all  oth- 
ers to  discount  the  perpetual  danger  from  Romanism  is  thor- 
oughly thoughtless  and  rash.    We  believe  that  the  Christianity 

1 Appeared  in  The  Presbyterian  Quarterly,  April,  1894.  540 


THE  ATTRACTIONS  OF  POPERY.  541 

left  by  the  apostles  to  the  primitive  church  was  essentially  what 
we  now  call  Presbyterian  and  Protestant.  Prelacy  and  popery 
speedily  began  to  work  in  the  bosom  of  that  community  and 
steadily  wrought  its  corruption  and  almost  its  total  extirpa- 
tion. Why  should  not  the  same  cause  tend  to  work  the  same 
result  again?  Are  we  truer  or  wiser  Presbyterians  than  those 
trained  by  the  apostles?  Have  the  enemies  of  truth  become  less 
skillful  and  dangerous  by  gaining  the  experience  of  centuries? 
The  popish  system  of  ritual  and  doctrine  was  a  gradual  growth, 
which,  madifying  true  Christianity,  first  perverted  and  then  ex- 
tinguished it.  Its  destructive  power  has  resulted  from  this: 
that  it  has  not  been  the  invention  of  any  one  cunning  and  hos- 
tile mind,  but  a  gradual  growth,  modified  by  hundreds  or  thou- 
sands of  its  cultivators,  who  were  the  most  acute,  learned,  sel- 
fish, and  anti-Christian  spirits  of  their  generations,  perpetually 
retouched  and  adapted  to  every  weakness  and  every  attribute 
of  depraved  human  nature,  until  it  became  the  most  skillful 
and  pernicious  system  of  error  which  the  world  has  ever  known. 
As  it  has  adjusted  itself  to  every  superstition,  every  sense  of 
guilt,  every  foible  and  craving  of  the  depraved  human  heart, 
so  it  has  travestied  with  consummate  skill  every  active  princi- 
ple of  the  gospel.  It  is  doubtless  the  ne  plus  ultra  of  religious 
delusion,  the  final  and  highest  result  of  perverted  human  facul- 
ty guided  'by  the  sagacity  of  the  great  enemj-. 

This  system  has  nearly  conquered  Christendom  once.  He 
who  does  not  see  that  it  is  capable  of  conquering  it  again  is 
blind  to  the  simplest  laws  of  thought.  One  may  ask.  Does  it 
not  retain  sundry  of  the  cardinal  doctrines  of  the  gospel,  mon- 
otheism, the  trinity,  the  hypostatic  union,  Christ's  sacrifice,  the 
sacraments,  the  resurrection,  the  judgment,  immortality?  Yes; 
in  form  it  retains  them,  and  this  because  of  its  supreme  cun- 
ning. It  retains  them  while  so  wresting  and  enervating  as  to 
rob  them  mainly  of  their  sanctifying  power,  because  it  designs 
to  spread  its  snares  for  all  sorts  of  minds  of  every  grade  of 
opinion.  The  grand  architect  was  too  cunning  to  make  it,  like 
his  earlier  essays,  mere  atheism,  or  mere  fetishism,  or  mere 
polytheism,  or  mere  pagan  idolatry ;  for  in  these  forms  t?he  trajj 
only  ensnared  the  coarser  and  more  ignorant  natures.  He  has 
now  perfected  it  and  baited  it  for  all  types  of  humanity,  the 
most  refined  as  well  as  the  most  imbruted. 


542  THE  ATTRACTIONS  OF  POPERY. 

I.  Romanism  now  enjoys  in  our  country  certain  important 
advantages,  whicli  I  may  style  legitimate,  in  this  sense,  that  our 
decadent,  half-corrupted  Protestantism  bestows  these  advan- 
tages upon  our  enemy,  so  that  Rome,  in  employing  them,  only 
uses  what  we  ourselves  give  her.  In  other  words,  there  are 
plain  points  upon  which  Rome  claims  a  favorable  comparison 
as  against  Protestantism;  and  her  claim  is  correct,  in  that  the 
latter  is  blindly  and  criminally  toetraying  her  own  interests  and 
duties. 

(1.)  A  hundred  years  ago  French  atheism  gave  the  world 
the  Jacobin  theory  of  political  rights.  The  Bible  had  been 
teaching  mankind  for  three  thousand  years  the  great  doctrine 
of  men's  moral  equality  before  the  universal  Father,  the  great 
basis  of  all  free,  just,  and  truly  republican  forms  of  i-ivil  so- 
ciety. Atheism  now  travestied  this  true  doctrine  by  her  mor- 
tal heresy  of  the  absolute  equality  of  men,  asserting  that  every 
human  'being  is  naturally  and  inalienably  entitled  to  every 
right,  power,  and  prerogative  in  civil  society  which  is  allowed 
to  any  man  or  any  class.  The  Bible  taught  a  liberty  wiiich  con- 
sists in  each  man's  unhindered  privilege  of  having  and  doing 
just  those  things,  and  no  others,  to  which  he  is  rationally  and 
morally  entitled.  Jacobinism  taught  the  liberty  of  license — 
every  man's  natural  right  to  indulge  his  own  absolute  will;  and 
it  set  up  this  fiendish  caricature  as  the  object  of  sacred  worship 
for  mankind.  Now,  democratic  Protestantism  in  t'hese  United 
States  has  become  so  ignorant,  so  superficial  and  wilful,  that 
it  confounds  the  true  republicanism  with  this  deadly  heresy  of 
Jacoibinism.  It  has  ceased  to  know  a  difference.  Hence,  when 
the  atheistic  doctrine  begins  to  bear  its  natural  fruits  of  li- 
cense, insubordination,  communism,  and  anarchy,  this  bastard 
democratic  Protestantism  does  not  know  how  to  retouke  them. 
It  has  recognized  the  parents;  how  can  it  consistently  condemn 
the  children?  Now,  then,  Rome  proposes  herself  as  the  stable 
advocate  of  obedience,  order,  and  permanent  authority  through- 
out the  ages.  She  shows  her  practical  power  to  govern  men,  as 
she  says,  through  their  consciences  (truth  would  say,  through 
their  superstitions).  Do  we  wonder  that  good  citizens,  begin- 
ning to  stand  aghast  at  these  elements  of  confusion  and  ruin, 
the  spawn  of  Jacobinism,  which  a  Jacobinized  Protestantism 
cannot  control,  should  look  around  for  some  moral  and  reli- 


THE  ATTRACTIONS    OF   POPERY.  543 

gious  system  capable  of  supporting  a  firm  social  order?    Need 
we  be  surprised  that  when  Rome  steps  forward,  saving,  "I  have 
been  through  the  centuries  the  upholder  of  order,"  rational  men 
should  be  inclined  to  give  her  their  hand?    This  high  advantage 
a  misguided  Protestantism  is  now  giving  to  its  great  adversary. 
(2.)    The  Reformation  was  an     assertion     of     liberty     of 
thought.    It  asserted  for  all  mankind,  and  secured  for  the  Prot- 
estant nations,  each  man's  right  to  think  and  decide  for  himself 
upon  his  religious  creed  and  his  duty  towards  his  God,  in  the 
fear  of  Grod  and  the  truth,  unhindered    by   human    power,   politi- 
cal   or  ecclesiastical.      Here,  again,  a  part  of  our  Protestantism 
perverted  the  precious  truth  until  the  "manna  bred  warms,  and 
stank."    Rationalistic  and  skeptical  Protestantism  now  claims, 
instead  of  that  righteous  liberty,  license  to  dogmatize  at  the 
bidding  of  every  caprice,  every  impulse  of  vanity,  every  false 
philosophy,  without  any  responsibilit}'  to  either  truth  or  moral 
obligatian.     The  result  has  been  a  diversity  and  confusion  of 
pretended  creeds  and  theologies  among    nominal    Protestants, 
which  perplexes  and  frightens  sincere,  'but  timid,  minds.     Ev- 
erything seems  to  them  afloat  upon  this  turbulent  sea  of  licen- 
tious debate.    They  are  fatigued  and  alarmed;  they  see  no  end 
of  uncertainties.     They  look  around  anxiously  for  some  safe 
and  fixed  foundation  of  credence.  Rome  comes  forward  and  says 
to  them,  You  see,  then,  that  this  Protestant  liberty  of  thaught  is 
fatal  license;  the  Protestant's  ''rational  religion"  turns  out  to  be 
but  poisonous  rationalism,    infidelity  wearing  the  mask  of  faith. 
Holy  Mot'her  Church  offers  you  the  foundation  of  her  infallibil- 
ity, guaranteed  by  the  indwelling  of  the  Holy  Ghost.    She  shows 
you  that  faith  must  ground  itself  in  implicit  submission,  and 
not  in  human  inquiry.     She  pledges  herself  for  the  safety  of 
your  soul  if  you  simply  submit;  come,  then,  ''trust  and  be  at 
rest."     Many  are  the  weary  souls  who  accept  her  invitations; 
and  these  not  only  the  weak  and  cowardly,  but  sometimes  the 
'brilliant  and  gifted,  like  a  Cardinal  Xewmau.    For  this  result 
a  perverted  Protestantism  is  responsible.    If  all  nominal  Prot- 
estants were  as  honest  in  their  exercise  of  mental  liberty  as  the 
fear  of  God  and  the  loj-alty  to  truth  should  make  them;  if  they 
were  as  humble  and  honest  in  construing  and  obeying  God's 
word  in  his  Bible,  as  papists  profess  to  be  in  submit  ting  to  the 
authority  of  the  Holy  Mother  Church,  honest  inquirers  would 


544  THE  ATTRACTIONS  OF  POPERY. 

never  be  embarrassed,  and  would  never  be  befooled  intr*  suppos- 
ing that  the  words  of  a  pope  could  furnish  a  more  comfortable 
foundation  for  faith  than  the  word  of  God. 

(3.)  To  the  shame  of  our  damaged  Protestantism,  popery 
remains,  in  some  essential  respects,  more  fairhful  to  (Jod's  truth 
than  its  rival.  For  instance,  while  multitudes  of  scholars,  call- 
ing themselves  Protestant  Christians,  are  undermining  the  doc- 
trine of  the  inspiration  of  the  Scriptures,  Rome  holds  fast  to  it 
in  her  catechisms  and  formal  declarations.  True,  she  claims  in- 
spiration for  others  than  the  prophets,  evangelists,  and  apostles 
for  her  popes,  namely,  and  prelates,  holding  to  ''the  apostolic 
succession."  But  if  one  must  err,  it  is  better  to  err  by  excess 
than  by  defect  on  a  point  like  this,  where  negation  cuts  the 
blinded  soul  of  man  off  absolutely  from  the  divine  guidance. 
Thousands  of  pretended  Protestant  believers  are  advancing 
their  destructive  criticism  to  assert  that  the  I'entateuch  is  a 
literary  fraud.  Rome  firmly  maintains  that  it  is  God's  own 
work  through  Moses.  A  thousand  deceitful  arts  are  plied  to 
degrade  the  conception  of  inspiration,  as  giving  only  thoughts, 
and  not  the  words,  or  as  consisting  only  in  an  elevation  of  the 
consciousness  by  poetic  genius,  and  such  like  treacherous 
views.  Rome  still  teaches  the  old-fashioned,  honest  view. 
What  right  have  such  deceitful  Protestants  to  scold  Rome  for 
dishonesty  of  those  historical  and  spiritual  impostures  upon 
which  she  founds  the  clai'ms  of  the  popes?  Truly,  they  are 
dirty  enough;  for  the  forged  decretals,  for  instance,  too  much 
contempt  and  reprehension  cannot  be  expressed.  But  they  are 
not  a  whit  dirtier  than  the  mental  dishonesty  of  the  men  who, 
after  asserting  that  they  have  proved  the  Pentateuch  mostly  a 
literary  fraud,  done  by  priestcraft  more  than  a  thousand  years 
after  its  pretended  date,  still  assure  us  that  its  value  as  Scrip 
ture  and  divine  rule  of  faith  is  not  wounded.  These  recent  jus- 
tifiers  of  pious  fraud  cannot  convict  the  older  ones.  The  old 
imposture,  like  a  rotten  roof,  has  become  moss-grown  with  age. 
and  is  picturesque  and  venerable  in  many  eyes.  The  new  im- 
posture stands  ugly  and  malodorous  in  its  rank  freshness. 

Again,  multitudes  of  pretended  Protestants  utterly  deny 
the  trinity,  the  very  corner-stone  of  a  theology  of  redemption. 
Rome  affirms  it  in  all  the  fullness  of  the  creeds  of  Mce,  Chalce- 
don,  and  Athanasius.  Myriads  of  pretended  Protestants  revere 
their  own  ethical  philosophy  so  much  more  than  they  do  their 


THE    ATTRACTIONS   OF   POPERY.  5-15 

God  that  they  must  needs  utterly  reject  Christ's  vicarious  satis- 
faction for  the  guilt  of  sin.  Rome  continues  to  aissert  it,  in 
spite  of  spurious  philosophy,  although  she  does  add  to  it  super- 
stitious claims  of  human  merit.  Myriads  of  our  men  have  be- 
come such  "advanced  thinkers"  that  they  cannot  away  with 
supernatural  regeneration.  Rome  teaches  it  invariably,  even  if 
it  is  in  the  form  of  baptismal  regeneration,  and  still  ascribes  it 
to  the  power  of  God.  Such  are  a  few  of  the  biting  contrasts. 
We  cannot  wonder  that  many,  even  of  honest  and  reverent 
minds,  when  they  witness  this  ruthless  destruction  of  the  es- 
sentials of  the  gospel,  draw  two  plain  inferences.  One  is,  that 
all  such  men  pretending  to  be  Protestant  believers  are,  in  fact, 
nothing  but  infidels  wearing  a  mask,  probably  for  the  sake  of 
the  loaves  and  fishes  as  yet  connected  with  the  clerical  calling; 
so  that  it  is  mere  impudence  for  such  men  to  assume  to  warn 
them  against  popish  impostures — rather  too  near  akin  to  Satan 
reproving  sin.  The  other  is,  that  the  Romanist  theologians 
must  'have  been  right  in  asserting,  ever  since  the  days  of  Lutii- 
er,  that  our  Protestant  way  of  esta'blishing  a  divine  rule  of  faith 
by  a  rational  and  explicit  credence  must  turn  out  nothing  but 
rationalistic  infidelity.  Souls  which  value  a  divine  redemp- 
tion for  man  shudder  as  the.y  behold  this  wild  havoc  of  every- 
thing characteristic  of  a  saving  gospel;  and  they  naturally  ex- 
claim, "There  is  no  security  except  in  going  'back  to  that  old 
foundation,  implicit  trust  in  the  witness  of  'Holy  Mother 
Church'  to  the  Scriptures!"  Now,  true  Protestants  know  that 
this  conclusion  is  wretchedly  sophistical,  but  it  is  dreadfully 
natural  for  honest,  half-informed  men. 

(4.)  The  best  argument  for  any  creed  is  the  godly  living  of 
its  professors.  Protestantism  used  to  have  a  grand  and  victor- 
ious advantage  on  that  point.  She  is  ceasing  to  wield  it.  The 
wealth  begotten  by  her  very  virtues  of  industry,  thrift,  and 
probity  has  debauched  many  of  her  children.  "Jeshurun  has 
waxen  fat,  and  kicked."  An  unbounded  fi-ood  of  luxury  sweeps 
Protestant  families  away.  A  relaxed  and  deceitful  doctrine  pro- 
duces its  sure  fruits  of  relaxed  and  degraded  morals.  Church 
discipline  is  nearly  extinct.  Meantime  spurious  revivalism,  re- 
lying upon  all  species  of  vulgar  clap-trap  and  sensational  arti- 
fice, upon  slang  rhetoric  and  the  stimulating  of  mere  animal 
sympathies,  instead  of  the  pure  word  and  spirit  of  God,  is  hur- 


546  THE    ATTEAOTIONS   OF   POPERY. 

rying  tens  of  thousands  of  dead  souls  into  the  Protestamt 
churches.  These  evils  have  goue  so  far  that  a  profession  of 
faith  in  these  churches  has  come  to  mean  nearly  as  little  as  a 
professed  conformitj'  to  Rome  means.  No  shrewd  man  regards 
such  a  profession  as  any  sufficient  guarantee  for  truth  or  com- 
mon honesty  in  dealing.  The  lawyers  tell  us  that  litigation  un- 
masks about  as  much  intended  fraud,  purposed  extortion,  and 
loose  swearing  in  these  church  members  as  in  other  people. 
Worldly  conformity  is  so  general  that  the  line  between  the 
church  and  the  world  has  become  nearly  as  indistinct  as  that 
between  spiritual  and  prafane  living  in  the  Romish  communion. 
Meantime,  Rome  gets  up  no  spurious  revivals;  she  works  her 
sj'stem  with  the  steadiness  and  perseverance  which  used  to 
characteriz'e  pastoral  effort  and  family  religion  among  Presby 
terians.  It  is  true  that  her  cultus  is  intensely  ritualistic;  but, 
at  least,  it  does  not  offend  decent  people  ^by  irreverent  slang; 
her  worship  is  liturgical,  but  her  liturgies,  however  erroneous 
in  doctrine,  are,  at  least,  genteel,  and  marked  by  aesthetic  dig 
nity.  Rome  does  not  venture  on  sham  miracles  very  much  in 
these  United  States.  It  is  true  she  has  her  spurious  relics  and 
other  superstitious  impostures  for  impressing  the  peojjle;  but 
wherein  are  they  less  of  human  artifices  and  less  deceptive  than 
the  machinery  of  our  pretended  revivals,  with  their  marchings, 
handshakings,  choruses,  and  ephemeral  conversions?  Rome's 
confessional  is,  indeed,  a  terrible  organ  of  spiritual  tyranny; 
but  still  it  is  a  strong  argan  of  church  discipline,  and  it  is  stead- 
ily employed  as  such  in  every  Romish  chapel.  The  average 
Protestant  church  member  feels  that  any  assumption  of  real 
presbyterial  authority  over  him  by  his  pastor  would  be  an  im- 
pertinence, which  he  would  resent  with  scorn.  The  Romish 
priest  still  wields  a  potent,  ghostly  authority  over  his  people. 
One  may  cry  that  he  wields  it  by  virtue  of  superstition,  by  the 
threat  of  withholding  his  absolution  or  extreme  unction.  Yet 
he  wields  it,  and  usually  for  the  credit  of  his  church.  He 
teaches  his  members  to  practice  the  forms  of  their  daily  de- 
votion with  diligence  and  regularity,  holding  out  a  powerful 
motive  in  the  promise  of  merit  thus  wrought  out.  The  Prot- 
estant may  exclaim,  These  are  but  machine  prayers,  vain  repe- 
titions told  off  by  the  dozen  along  with  the  beads!  Very  true, 
the  most  of  it  may  be  very  poor  stuff;  but  nothing  can  be  quite 


tSe  attractions  of  popeey.        647 

so  poor  aud  worthless  as  the  living  of  many  Protestant  mem 
bers,  who  have  no  family  altar  and  no  closet,  who  say  no  pray- 
ers either  in  form  or  in  spirit,  and  who  have  no  conscience  of 
keeping  either  Sabbaths  or  saints'  days.  It  is  a  very  bad  thing 
in  the  Romanist  to  join  the  worship  of  Mary  and  the  saints  with 
that  of  God;  but  we  surmise  that  it  is  a  still  worse  thing  to  be 
a  practical  atheist,  and  statedly  to  worship  nothing,  neither 
saint  nor  God,  as  many  an  enrolled  member  of  a  Protestant 
church  now  does. 

The  Romanist's  machine  prayers  and  vain  repetitious  have, 
at  least,  this  tendency,  to  sustain  in  his  soul  some  slight  habit 
of  religious  reverence,  aud  this  is  better  than  mere  license  of 
life.  While  the  two  cammunions  wear  these  aspects,  we  need 
not  wonder  that  those  Americans,  at  least,  whose  early  preju 
dices  lean  towards  Rome  should  honestly  regard  her  as  the  bet- 
ter mother  of  piety  and  morals. 

(5.)  We  Protestants  are  also  giving  away  to  Rome  another 
powerful  influence  over  honest  and  thoughtful  Christian  minds. 
This  we  do  by  secularizing  our  whole  State  education.  The  bulk 
of  the  Protestants  in  the  United  States  have  betrayed  them- 
selves, through  their  partisan  political  zeal,  to  an  attitude  con- 
ctM'uing  the  rearing  of  youth  which  must  ever  be  preposterous 
and  untenable  for  sincere  Christians.  The  statesmen  and  di- 
vines of  the  Reformation,  the  Luthers,  Calvins,  Knoxes,  Win- 
tlirops,  and  Mathers,  were  strong  advocates  of  State  education; 
they  were  such  'because  they  believed  in  the  close  union  of 
church  and  State;  because  their  conception  of  the  State  was 
thoroughly  theocratic.  Had  these  men  been  asked,  What  think 
you  of  a  theory  of  education  which  should  train  the  understand- 
ing without  instructing  the  religious  conscience;  which  should 
teach  young  immortal  spirits  anything  and  everything  except 
God;  which  should  thus  secularize  education,  a  function  essen- 
tially spiritual,  and  should  take  this  parental  tRsk  from  the 
fathers  and  mothers,  on  whom  God  imposed  it,  to  confer  it  on 
the  human  aud  earthly  organism,  expressly  secular  and  god- 
less? they  would  have  answered  with  one  voice.  It  is  pagan,  ut- 
terly damnable.  But  they  thought  that  the  State  might  edu- 
cate, because  the  State  with  them  was  Christian.  Thus  Sta,t€ 
education  was  firmly  grafted  into  the  Puritan  colonies.  New 
England,  with  her  usual  aggressiveness,  has  pushed  her  usage 


548  THE   ATTEACTIONS    OF   POPERY. 

all  over  the  empire.  Meantime  the  Jetfersouian  doctrine  of  the 
absolute  severance  and  independence  of  church  and  State,  of 
the  entire  secularitj  of  the  State,  and  the  absolutely  equal 
rights,  before  the  law,  of  religious  truth  and  error,  of  pagan- 
ism, atheism,  and  Christianity,  has  also  established  itself  in  all 
the  States;  and  still  the  politicians,  for  electioneering  ends, 
propagate  this  State  education  everywhere.  By  this  curious 
circuit  ''Christian  America"  has  gotten  herself  upon  this  thor- 
oughly pagan  ground;  forcing  the  education  of  responsible, 
moral,  and  immortal  beings,  of  which  religion  must  ever  be  the 
essence,  into  the  hands  of  a  gigantic  human  agency,  which  re- 
solves that  it  cannot  and  will  not  be  religious  at  all.  Surely 
some  great  religious  body  will  arise  in  America  to  lift  its  Chris- 
tian protest  against  this  monstrous  result!  But,  lo!  the  chief, 
the  only  organized  protest  heard  in  America  comes  from  the 
Romish  Church.  It  is  she  who  stands  forth  pre-eminent,  almost 
single-handed,  to  assert  the  sacred  rights  of  Christian  parents 
in  the  training  of  the  souls  they  have  begotten,  of  Christ  in  the 
nurture  of  the  souls  he  died  to  redeem.  To-day  it  is  this  Rom- 
ish Church  which  stands  forth  precisely  in  the  position  of  the 
Luthers,  Calvins,  Knoxes,  and  Mathers  as  to  the  main,  central 
point,  which  is^  that  the  education  of  the  young  should  be 
Christian^  and  should  be  committed  to  Christian  hands  And 
what  are  our  representative  Protestants  saying?  Instead  of 
admitting  this  truth  of  the  ages,  and  confessing  the  fatal  error 
into  which  their  haste  and  Jacobinism  have  betrayed  them, 
they  are  only  shouting  that  Rome  objects  to  the  American 
State  school  because  Rome  hates  republicanism,  and  wishes  to 
overthrow  it.  The  best  they  can  do  is  to  place  themselves  Jn 
this  absurd  and  dishonest  position:  To  boast  in  one  breath  of 
their  loyalty  to  the  principles  of  the  Reformers  concerning  edu- 
cation, and  in  the  next  breath  to  vilify  the  Roman  Church  for 
reasserting  the  very  principles  of  these  same  Reformers.  What 
can  they  expect  save  a  miserable  defeat  upon  this  false  posi- 
tion, if,  indeed,  common  justice  and  common  sense  are  to  con- 
tinue traits  of  the  American  mind;  unless,  indeed,  America  is 
to  make  up  her  mind  to  be  atheistic  or  pagan  instead  of  Chris- 
tian? These  misguided  Protestants  may  be  assured  that  there 
are  hundreds  of  thousands  of  serious,  devout  parents  who  will 
be  much  more  likely  to  honor  Rome  as  the  faithful  champion  of 


THE   ATTRAOTIOISrS    OF   POPERY.  549 

Christ's  rights  over  their  children  than  to  condemn  lier  as  the 
designing  enemy  of  free  government.  In  this  unnatural  con- 
test Protestantism  can  only  lose,  while  Rome  gains;  and  she 
will  gain  the  approval  not  only  of  the  superstitious,  but  of  the 
most  thoughtful  and  devout  minds. 

(G.)    It  lis  with  this  most  valuable  class  of  minds  that  Rome 
is  now  gaining  anather  far-reaching  advantage.    This  is  by  her 
doctrine  concerning  marriage  and  the  relations  of  the  sexes.  On 
these  points  she  continues  to  hold  and  teach  tlie  highest  views. 
It  is  very  true  that  Rome  errs  in  making  marriage  a  sacrament 
of  the  church;  but  she  makes  it,  as  Scripture  does,  a  divinely  ap- 
pointed and  religious  institution,  while  Protestant  laws  and  de- 
bauched Protestant  thought  tend  all  over  America  to  degrade  it 
to  a  mere  civil  contract.    The  Roman  doctrine  and  canon  law  re- 
cognize no  divorce  except  by  the  pope  himself.  They  teach  that 
marriage  is  inviolable.     The  divorce  laws  in  our  Protestant! 
States  provide  so  many  ways  for  rending  the  marriage  tie  that 
its  vows  have  become  almost  a  farce.    We  are  told  that  many 
Protestant  wonu^n  in  America  scornfully  refuse  to  talce  the  vow 
of  oibedience  to  tlieir  husbands,  ai)puinted  by  God  in  his  word; 
and  Protestant  i)arsons  are  so  cowardly  that  they  dare  not  men- 
tion it  in  the  mai'inage  ceremony.     But  Rome  still  exacts  thijs 
conjugal  ()1)edience  of  her  daugliter's.     Romish     }»astors     also 
stand  almost  alone  in  teaching  their  people  the  enomnous  crim- 
inality of  those  nameless  sins  against  jvosterity  at  which  fash- 
ionable Protestantism  connives.     Moral  and    thoughtful     men 
who  know  history  know  how  fundamental  the  sanctity  of  mar- 
riage and  the  family  is  to  society  and  the  church,  how  surely 
their  corruption  must  destroy  both  and 'barbarize  mankind,  look 
on  aghast  at  this  sjjreading  taint  in  American  life.     Many  an 
educated  jtatriot  is  beginning  to  say  that  Romanism  is  the  only 
firm  and  consistent  opponent. 

Protestants  may  exclaim  that  Rome  has  ever  been  a  cor- 
i-upting  religion;  that  even  the  confessional  has  been  made  the 
instrument  of  profligacy.  No  doubt  these  things  have  often 
been  true;  yet  another  thing  is  visibly  true  in  these  United 
States:  that  while  degrading  views  of  the  marriage  relation  and 
of  the  honor  of  parentage  are  eating  out  the  life  of  so  many 
nominal  I'rotestant  families,  and  bringing  them  to  total  ex- 
tinction, the  families  of  Romanists  are  better  protected  from 


550  THE  ATTRACTIONS  OF  POPERY. 

this  bliglir.  Their  houses  are  peopled  with  childi-en,  while  the 
homes  of  rich  Protestants  are  too  elegant  and  luxurious  for 
such  nuisances.  By  the  very  force  of  the  Malthusian  law  of 
population  Romanism  is  growing,  while  Protestantism  stands 
still. 

I  have  thus  described  six  distinct  lines  of  intiueiice  which 
our  unfaithfulness  to  our  principles  has  betrayed  int;>  the 
hands  of  the  Romanist.  They  are  using  them  all  with  constant 
effect,  and  we,  at  least,  cannot  blame  them. 

II.  I  now  proceed  to  explain  certain  evil  princijiles  of  hu- 
man nature  which  are  concurring  powerfully  in  this  country  to 
give  currency  to  popery.  These  may  be  called  its  illicit  advan- 
tages.    I  mention : 

(1.)  The  constant  tendency  of  American  demagogues  to 
pay  court  to  popery  and  to  purchase  votes  for  themselves  from 
it.  at  the  cost  of  the  people's  safety,  rights  and  money.  Nearly 
two  generations  ago  (the  men  of  this  day  seem  to  have  forgot- 
ten the  infamy)  William  H.  Seward,  of  New  York,  began  this 
dangerous  and  dishonest  game.  He  wished  to  'be  Governor  of 
New  York.  He  came  to  an  understanding  with  ArehMshop 
Hughes,  then  the  head  of  the  popish  hierarchy  in  that  State,  to 
give  him  the  Irish  vote  in  return  for  certain  sectarian  advan- 
tages in  the  disbursement  of  the  State  revenues.  Neither  Rome 
nor  the  demagogues  have  since  forgotten  their  lesson,  nor  will 
they  ever  forget  it.  It  would  be  as  unreasonable  to  expect  it 
as  to  expect  that  hawks  will  forget  the  poultry  yard.  It  is  the 
nature  of  the  demagogue  to  trade  off  anything  for  votes;  they 
are  the  breath  in  the  nostrils  of  his  ambition.  The  popish  hier- 
archy differs  essentfally  from  the  ministry  of  any  other  reli- 
gion, in  having  votes  to  trade.  The  traditional  claim  of  Rome 
is  that  she  has  the  right  to  control  both  spheres,  the  ecclesiasti- 
cal and  the  political,  the  political  for  the  sake  of  the  ecclesias- 
tical. The  votes  of  her  masses  are  more  or  less  manageable,  as 
the  votes  of  Protestants  are  not,  because  Rome's  is  a  system  of 
authority  as  opposed  to  free  thought.  Rome  instructs  the  con- 
science of  every  one  of  her  members  that  it  is  his  religiouys 
duty  to  subordinate  all  other  duties  and  interests  to  hers.  And 
this  is  a  spiritual  duty  enforceable  by  the  most  awful  spiritual 
sanctions.  How  can  a  thinking  man  afford  to  disobey  the  hier- 
archv  which  holds  his  eternal  destiny  in  its  secret  fist;  so  that 


THE  ATTRACTIONS  OF  POPERY.  551 

even  if  they  gave  liim  iu  form  the  essential  sacraments,  such 
as  the  masis,  absolution,  and  extreme  unction,  they  are  able 
clandestinely  to  make  them  worthless  to  him,  by  withholding 
the  sacramental  intention.  Hence  it  is  that  the  majority  of 
An)erican  papists  can  be  voted  in  "blocks";  and  it  is  virtually 
the  hierarchy  which  votes  them.  The  goods  are  ready  bound  up 
in  parcels  for  traffic  witli  demagogues.  We  are  well  aware  that 
numerous  jMpi'sts  will  indignantly  deny  this;  declaring  that 
there  is  a  Romanist  vote  in  this  country  which  is  just  as  inde- 
pendent of  their  priesthood  aud  as  free  as  any  other.  Of  course 
there  is.  The  hierarchy  is  a  very  experienced  and  dextrous 
driver.  It  does  not  whip  in  the  restive  colt'S,  'but  humors  them 
awhile  until  she  gets  them  well  harnessed  and  broken.  But  the 
team  as  a  whole  must  yet  travel  her  road,  because  they  have  to 
'believe  it  infallible.  We  assure  these  independent  Romanist 
voters  that  they  are  not  "good  'Catholics";  they  must  unlearn 
thiis  heresy  of  independent  thought  before  they  are  meet  for 
the  Romanist  paradise.  Men  of  secular  ambition  have  always 
sought  to  use  the  hierarch}'  to  influence  others  for  their  politi- 
cal advantage;  the  example  is  as  old  as  history.  Just  as  soon 
as  prelacy  was  developed  in  the  patritstic  church,  Roman  em- 
perors began  to  purchase  its  influence  to  sustain  their  thrones. 
Throughout  the  Middle  Ages,  German  kaisers  and  French, 
Spanish,  and  English  kings  habitually  traded  with  Rome,  pay- 
ing her  dignities  and  endowments  for  lier  ghoistly  support  to 
their  ambitions.  Even  in  this  century  we  have  seen  the  two 
Napoleons  playing  the  same  game — purchasing  for  their  im- 
perialism the  support  of  a  priesthood  in  whose  religion  they 
did  not  believe.  If  any  suppose  that  because  America  is  nom- 
inally democratic  theisame  thing  will  not  happen  here,  they  are 
thoroughly  silly.  Some  Yankee  ingenuity  will  be  invoked  to 
modify  the  forms  of  the  traffic,  so  as  to  suit  American  names; 
that  is  all. 

Intelligent  studentis  of  church  history  know  that  one  main 
agency  for  converting  primitive  Christianity  first  into  prelacy 
and  then  into  popery  was  unlimited  church  endowments.  As 
soon  as  Constantine  established  Christianity  as  the  religion  of 
the  State,  ecclesiastical  persoiiis  and  bodies  began  to  assume  the 
virtual  (and  before  long  the  formal)  rights  of  corporations.  They 
could  receive  bequests  aud  gifts  of  property,  and  hold  them  by 


552  THE  ATTRACTIONS  OF  POPERY. 

a  teuui-e  as  firm  as  that  of  the  fee-simple.  These  spiritual  cor- 
pui'ations  were  deathless.  Thuis  the  property  they  acquired 
was  all  held  'by  the  tenure  of  mortmain.  When  a  corporation 
is  thus  empowered  to  absorb  continually,  and  never  to  disgorge, 
there  is  no  limit  to  its  possible  wealth.  The  laws  uf  the  empire 
in  the  Middle  Ages  imposed  no  limitations  upon  bequeists;  thus, 
most  naturally,  monasteries,  cathedrals,  chapters,  and  arch- 
bishoprics became  inordinately  rich.  At  the  Reformation  they 
had  grasped  one- third  of  the  property  of  Europe.  But  Scrip- 
ture saith,  "Where  rhe  carcass  is,  thither  the  eagles  are  gath- 
ered together."  Wealth  is  power,  and  ambitious  men  crave 
it.  Thus  this  endowed  hierarchy  came  to  be  filled  by  the  men 
of  the  greediest  ambition  in  Europe,  instead  of  by  humble,  self- 
denying  ])astors;  and  thus  it  was  that  this  tremendous  money 
power,  arming  itself  first  witli  a  spiritual  despotism  of  the 
popiish  theology  over  consciences,  and  then  allying  itself  with 
political  power,  wielded  the  whole  to  enforce  the  absolute  dom- 
ination of  that  religion  which  gave  them  their  wealth.  ^\^ 
wonder  human  liberty,  free  thought,  and  the  Bible  were  to- 
gether trampled  out  of  Europe.  When  the  Reformation  came, 
the  men  who  could  think  saw  that  this  tenure  in  mortmain  had 
'been  the  fatal  thing.  Knox,  the  wisest  of  them,  saw  clearly 
that  if  a  religious  reformation  was  to  succeed  in  Scotland  the 
ecclesiastical  corporations  must  be  destroyed.  They  were  de- 
stroyed, their  whole  property  alienated  to  the  secular  nobleis  or 
to  the  State  (the  remnant  which  Knox  secured  for  religious  edu- 
cation); and  therefore  it  was  that  Scotland  remained  Presbyter- 
ian. When  our  American  commonwealths  were  founded,  states- 
men and  divines  understood  this  great  jtrinciple  of  jurispru- 
dence, that  no  corporate  tenure  in  mortmain,  either  si)irirual  or 
secular,  is  compatible  with  the  liberty  of  the  peoi)le  and  the 
continuance  of  conistitutional  government. 

But  it  would  appear  that  our  legislators  now  know  nothing 
about  that  great  principle,  or  care  nothing  about  it.  Church  in- 
stitutions, Protestant  and  Romanist,  are  virtually  perpetual  cor- 
porations. Whatever  the  pious  choose  to  give  them  is  held  in 
mortmain,  and  they  grow  continually  richer  and  richer;  they  do 
not  even  pay  taxes,  and  there  seems  no  liniir  \\\nn\  rheir  acquisi- 
tions. And  last  comeis  the  Supreme  Court  of  the  T'nited  States, 
and  under  the  pretext  of  construing  the  law,  legislates  a  new 


THE  ATTRACTIONS  OF  POPERY.  553 

law  In  the  famous  Walnut-street  Cliun-li  case,  as  tliouoh  they 
desired  to  ensure  both  the  corruption  of  religijn  and  the  de- 
struction of  free  government  by  a  second  gigantic  iucubus  of 
endowed  ecclesiasticism.  The  new  law  is  virtually  this:  That 
in  case  any  free  citizen  deems  that  the  gifts  of  himself  or  l\\t> 
ancestors  are  usurped  for  some  use  alien  to  the  designed  trust, 
zV  s/ia//  be  the  usurper  who  shall  decide  the  issue.  This  is,  of 
course,  essentially  popish,  yet  a  great  Protestant  denomination 
has  been  seen  hastening  to  enroll  it  in  its  digest  of  spiritual 
laws.*  The  working  of  this  tendency  of  overgrown  ecclesiatsti- 
cal  wealth  will  certainly  be  twofold:  First,  to  Romanize  par- 
tially or  wholly  the  Protestant  churches  thus  enriched;  and, 
secondly,  to  incline,  enable,  and  equip  the  religion  thus  Roman- 
ized for  its  alliance  with  political  ambition  and  for  the  subju- 
gation of  the  people  and  the  government.  When  church  bodiers 
began,  under  Constantine,  to  acquire  endowments,  these  bodies 
were  Episcopal,  at  most,  or  even  still  Presbyterian.  The  in- 
crease of  endowment  helped  to  make  them  popish.  Then  jiop- 
ery  and  feudalism  stamped  out  the  Bible  and  enslaved  Europe. 
If  time  permitted,  I  could  trace  out  the  lines  of  causation  into 
perfect  clearness.  Will  men  ever  learn  that  like  causes  must 
l)roduce  like  effects? 

(2.)  The  democratic  theory  of  human  society  may  be  the 
most  rational  and  equitable;  but  human  nature  is  not  equita- 
ble; it  is  fallen  and  perverted.  Lust  of  applause,  pride,  vain- 
glory, and  love  of  power  are  as  natural  to  it  as  hunger  to  the 
body.  Next  to  Adam,  the  most  representative  man  \\\nn\  earth 
was  Diotrephes,  "who  loves  to  have  the  pre-eminence."  Every 
man  is  an  aristocrat  in  his  heart.  Xow,  prelacy  and  popery  are 
aristocratic  religions.  Consecjuently,  as  long  as  human  naturt^ 
is  natural,  they  will  present  more  or  less  of  attraction  to  human 
minds.  Quite  a  number  of  Methodist,  Presbyterian,  or  Inde- 
pendent ministers  have  gone  over  to  prelacy  or  popery,  and 
thus  become  bishopis.  Was  there  ever  one  of  them,  however 
conscientious  his  new  faith,  and  however  devout  his  temjtei-, 
who  did  not  find  some  elation  and  pleasure  in  his  spiritual  dig- 
nity? Is  there  a  democrat  in  democratic  America  who  would 
not  be  flattered  in  his  heart  by  being  addressed  as  "my  lord?" 
Distinction  and  power  are  gratifying  to  all  men.    Prelacy  and 


See*  Dabney's  Discussions.  Vol.  11..  p.  ■IQX. 


554  THE    ATTRACTIONS    OF   POPERY. 

}»!)I»ei-y  offer  Mils  sweet  morsel  to  aspirants  by  proiiiisiug  to 
make  some  of  tliem  lords  of  their  brethren.  This  is  enough  to 
entice  all  of  them,  as  the  crown  entices  all  the  racers  on  the 
race-course.  It  is  true  that  while  many  run,  one  obtaineth  the 
crown;  but  all  may  flatter  themselves  with  the  hope  of  win- 
ning. Especially  does  the  pretension  of  sacramental  grace  offer 
the  most  isplendid  bait  to  human  ambition  which  can  be  con- 
ceived of  on  this  earth.  To  be  the  vicar  of  the  Almighty  in  dis- 
I)ensing  eternal  life  and  heavenly  crowns  at  will  is  a  more  mag- 
niflcent  power  than  the  prerogative  of  any  emperor  on  earth. 
Let  a  man  .mce  be  persuaded  that  he  really  grasps  this  power 
by  getting  a  i)Iace  in  the  apostolic  succession,  and  the  more 
sincere  he  is.  the  more  .splendid  the  prerogative  will  appear  to 
him;  for  the  more  clearly  his  faith  appreciates  the  thing  that 
he  proposes  to  do  in  the  sacraments,  the  more  illustrious  that 
thing  must  appear.  The  greatest  boon  ever  inherited  by  an  em- 
peror was  finite.  The  boon  of  redemption  is  infinite;  to  be  able 
to  dispense  it  at  will  to  one  sinner  is  a  much  grander  thing  than 
to  conquer  the  world  and  establish  a  universal  secular  empire. 
The  humblest  "hedge-priest"  would  be  a  far  grander  man  than 
that  emperor  if  he  could  really  work  the  miracle  and  confer  the 
grace  of  redemption  which  Rome  says  he  does  every  time  he 
consecrates  a  mass.  How  shall  we  eistimate,  then,  the  great- 
ness of  that  i)0])e  or  prelate  who  can  manufacture  such  miracle 
workers  at  will?  The  greatest  being  on  earth  should  hardly 
think  himself  worthy  to  loose  his  sandals  from  h'i.s  feet.  The 
Turkish  embassador  to  Paris  was  certainly  right  when,  upon 
accompanying  the  King  of  France  to  high  mass  in  Notre  Dame, 
and  seeing  the  king,  courtiers  and  multitude  all  prostrate  them- 
selveis  when  the  priest  elevated  the  Host,  he  wondered  that  the 
king  should  allow  anybody  but  himself  to  perform  that  mag- 
nificent function.  He  is  reported  to  have  said:  "Sire,  if  I  were 
king,  and  believed  in  your  religion,  nobody  should  do  that  in 
France  except  me.  It  is  a  vastly  greater  thing  than  anything 
else  that  you  do  in  your  royal  functions."  As  long  as  man  is 
man,  therefore,  popery  will  possess  this  unhallowed  advantage 
of  enticing,  and  even  entrancing,  the  ambition  of  the  keenest 
aspirants.  The  stronger  their  faith  in  their  doctrine,  the  more 
will  they  sanctify  to  themselves  this  dreadful  ambition.  In 
this  respect,  as  in  so  many  others,  the  tendency  of  the  whole 


THE   ATTRACTIOlSrS    OF   POPKRY.  555 

eui'i'eiit  of  Imiiiau  nature  us  to  make  papists.  It  is  converting 
grace  only  which  can  check  that  current  and  turn  men  sincerely 
'back  towards  Protestantism.  I  am  well  aware  that  tlie  func- 
tions of  the  Protestant  minister  may  be  so  wrested  as  to  present 
an  appeal  to  unhallowed  ambition.  But  popery  professes  to 
confer  upon  her  clergy  every  didactic  and  presbyterial  function 
which  Protestautitsm  has  to  bestow;  while  the  former  otters,  in 
addition,  this  splendid  bait  of  prelatic  power  and  sacramental 
miracle-w^orkiug. 

(.'?.)  All  the  churches  which  call  themselves  Protestant, 
even  the  strictest,  now  betray  the  silent  influence  of  those 
Komanizing  tendencies  which  have  been  and  are  hereafter  to  be 
explained.  There  is  an  almost  universal  letting  down  of  the 
old  tstandard  of  doctrine  and  worship.  A  comparison  of  preva- 
lent usages  of  to-day  and  of  seventy  years  ago  in  the  Methodist, 
Baptist,  Congregational  and  Presbyterian  Churches  (except 
those  of  the  Secession)  would  startle  any  thinking  mind.  Ev- 
ery one  of  them  now  admits  usages  wliicli  were  then  univer- 
sally rejected  by  them,  such  as  architectural  pomps,  i)ictui-ed 
windows,  floral  decorations,  instrumental  and  operatic  music. 
One  may  say,  that  these  are  matters  of  indift'erence  whicli  can- 
not be  proved  anti-scriptural;  but  every  sensible  man  knows 
that  they  proceed  from  one  impulse,  the  craving  for  a  more 
spectacular  and  ritualistic  worship.  This  is  precisely  the  im- 
pulse which  brought  about  prelacy  and  popery  in  the  patristic 
ages.  The  strictest  Protestant  communions  are  now  moving 
upon  the  same  inclined  plane.  The  descent  is  gentle,  at  first, 
but  as  it  proceeds  it  grows  steeper;  and  at  the  bottom  i.s  popery. 
The  prelatic  churches  of  America  now  notoriously  occupy  the 
middle  and  advanced  parts  of  this  course.  Forty  years  ago, 
when  things  were  not  near  so  bad  with  them  as  now,  the  head 
of  the  American  popish  hierarchy  pointed  an  eminent  Presby- 
terian divine  to  a  dainty  Puseyite  clergyman  trip})ing  t)y,  and 
said,  with  a  sardonic  smile:  "Doctor,  those  are  the  cattle  who 
do  our  plowing  for  us  gratis.  They  leave  us  little  to  do.  My 
only  objection  to  their  work  is,  that  they  make  their  perverts 
rather  too  popish  to  suit  my  taste  as  a  Komanist."  This  Right 
Reverend  was,  of  courise,  an  Irishman.  Episcopalians  who 
teach  baptismal  regeneration,  the  real  presence,  the  ajKistolic 
succession  and  such  like  dogmas,  must  inevitably  propel  their 


f)5r)  THE    ATTRACTIONS    OF    POPERY. 

impils  towards  popery.  If  their  favorite  doctrines  have  any 
foundation  in  logic  or  Scripture,  that  foundation  sustains 
I)opery  ais  fully  as  prelacy.  When  one  fixes  the  premises  in  the 
minds  of  his  pupils,  he  should  expect  to  see  them  sooner  or 
later  proceed  to  the  logical  consequence;  as  all  rivers  run  to 
the  ocean,  so  the  ultimate  destiny  of  all  high  cliurchism  is 
Kome.  These  covert  educators  for  popery  are  more  efficient 
f;)r  evil  than  the  overt  ones.  I  fear  thoise  who  are  on  the  road 
to  the  Eternal  City  more  than  those  who  have  fixed  their  abode 
there.  This  head  of  my  argument  is,  then,  that  Romanism  is 
sure  to  win  in  America,  because  most  of  those  who  profess  to 
be  Protestants  are  really  helping  her  by  preparing  her  way. 

<4.)  In  sundry  respect.s  I  ]»erceive  a  sort  of  hallucination 
l>revailing  in  people's  minds  concerning  old  historical  errors 
and  abuses,  which  I  see  to  have  been  the  regular  results  of  hu- 
man  nature.  Men  will  not  understand  history;  they  flatter 
themselves  that,  because  the  modes  of  civilization  are  much 
changed  and  advanced,  therefore  the  essential  laws  of  man's 
nature  are  going  to  cease  acting;  which  is  just  as  unreasonable 
as  to  expect  that  sinful  human  beings  must  entirely  cea.se  to  be 
untruthful,  sensual,  dishonest,  and  selfish,  because  they  have 
gotten  to  wear  fine  clothes.  Of  certain  evils  and  abuses  of  an- 
cient history  men  j^erisuade  themselves  that  they  are  no  longer 
possible  among  us.  because  we  have  become  civilized  and  nom- 
inally Christian.  One  of  these  evils  is  idolatry  with  its  two 
'branches,  polytheism  and  image-worship.  Oh!  they  say,  man- 
kind has  outgrown  all  that;  other  evils  may  invade  our  Chris- 
tian civilization,  but  that  is  too  gross  to  come  back  again.  They 
are  blind  at  once  to  the  teachings  of  historical  facts  and  to  com- 
mon sense.  They  know  that  at  one  time  idolatry  nearly  filled 
the  ancient  world.  Well,  what  was  the  previous  religious  state 
of  mankind  uj)on  wliicli  it  sujiervened?  Virtually  a  <'liristian 
istate,  that  is  to  say,  a  worship  of  the  one  true  (Jod,  under  the 
light  of  revelation,  with  our  same  gospel  taught  by  jjromises 
and  sacrifices.  And  it  is  very  stupid  to  suppose  that  the  social 
state  upon  which  the  early  idolatry  supervened  was  savage  or 
barbaric.  >Ve  rather  conclude  that  the  people  who  built  Noah's 
ark,  the  tower  of  Babel,  and  the  pyramid  of  CheopiS,  and  who 
enjoyed  the  light  of  God's  recent  revelations  to  Adam,  to  Enoch, 
to  Noah,  were  civilized.    Men  make  a  strange  confusion  here: 


THE    ATTRACTIONS    OF    POPERY.  557 

They  faui-y  rliar  idolatiT  could  be  pi-evaleut  because  mankind 
were  not  civilized.  The  histoiical  fact  is  just  the  opposite: 
^lankind  became  uncivilized  because  idolatry  first  prevailed.  In 
truth,  the  principles  tending  to  idjlatry  are  deeply  laid  in  man's 
fallen  nature.  Like  a  compressed  spring,  they  are  ever  ready  to 
act  again,  and  will  isurely  begin  to  act,  whenever  the  opposing 
power  of  vital  godliness  is  withdrawn.  First,  the  sensuous  has 
become  too  prominent  in  man;  reason,  conscience,  and  faith.  r<>(> 
feeble.  Every  sinful  man's  experience  witnesses  this  all  day 
long,  everj'  day  of  his  life.  Wh}-  else  is  it  that  the  objects  of 
sense-perception,  which  are  comparatively  trivial,  dominate  his 
attention,  his  sensibilities,  and  his  desires  so  much  more  than 
the  objects  of  faith,  which  he  himself  knows  to  be  so  much  more 
important?  Did  not  this  isensuous  tendency  seek  to  invade 
man's  religious  ideas  and  feelings,  it  would  'be  strange  indeed. 
Hence,  man  untaught  and  unchecked  'by  the  heavenly  light  al- 
ways shows  a  craving  for  sensuous  objects  of  worship.  He  is 
not  likely,  in  our  day,  to  satisfy  this  craving  by  setting  up  a 
brazen  image  of  Dagon.  the  fish, god;  or  of  Zeus,  or  the  Roman 
Jupiter;  or  of  the  Aztecs'  Itzlahuitl.  But  still  he  craves  a  visi- 
ble, material  object  of  worship.  Rome  meets  him  at  a  com- 
fortable half-way  station  with  her  relics,  crucifixes,  and  images 
of  the  saints.  She  adroitly  smoothes  the  downhill  road  for  him 
by  connecting  all  these  with  the  worship  of  the  true  God,  Again, 
man's  conscious  weakness  impels  him  almost  irresistibly  in  his 
serions  hours  to  seek  some  being  of  supernatural  attributes  to 
lean  upon.  His  heart  cries  out,  "Lead  me  to  the  Rock  that  is 
higher  than  I."  But  when  pure  monotheism  proposes  to  him 
the  supreme,  eternal  God — ^infinite  not  only  in  his  power  to  help, 
but  in  his  omniscience,  justice,  and  holiness — the  sinful  heart 
recoils.  This  object  is  too  high,  too  holy,  too  dreadful  for  ir. 
Sinful  man  craves  a  God,  but,  like  his  first  father,  shuns  the 
infinite  God;  hence  the  powerful  tendency  to  invent  interme- 
diate gods,  whom  he  may  persuade  himself  to  be  sufficiently 
gracious  and  powerful  to  be  trusted,  and  yet  not  so  infinite,  im- 
mutable, and  holy  as  inevitably  to  condemn  sin.  Here  is  the 
impulse  which  prompted  all  pagan  nations  to  invent  polythe- 
ism. This  they  did  by  filling  the  space  'between  man  and  the 
supreme ibeing  with  intermediate  gods.  Such,  among  the  Greeks, 
were  Bacchus,  Hercules,  Castor  and  Pollux,  Theseus,  Aescula- 
pin«.  ofr.     Tt  is  a  great  mistake  to  suppoise    that    thoughtful 


^58  THE    ATTRACTIONS    OF    POPERY. 

pagans  did  not  recognize  the  unity  and  etei-niry  of  a  supreme 
God,  ''Fatliei'  af  gods  and  of  men."  But  sometimes  the,y  rep- 
resent him  as  so  exalted  and  sublimated  as  to  be  at  once  above 
the  reach  of  human  prayers  and  above  all  concernment  in  hu- 
man affairs.  Other.s  thought  of  him  as  too  awful  to  be  directly 
approached,  accessible  only  through  the  mediation  of  his  awn 
next  progeny,  the  secondary  gods.  Here  we  have  precisely  the 
impulse  for  which  Rome  provides  in  her  saint-worship.  Mary 
is  the  highest  of  the  intermediate  gods,  next  to  the  trinity,  the 
intercessor  for  Christ's  intercession.  The  apostles  and  saints 
are  the  secondary  gods  of  this  Christian  pantheon.  How 
strangely  has  God's  predestination  led  Rome  in  the  develop- 
ment of  her  history  to  the  unwitting  admission  of  this  indict- 
ment I  Pagan  Rome  had  her  marble  temple,  the  gift  af  Agrip- 
pa  to  the  ('ommonwealth,  the  Pantheon,  or  sanctuary  of  all  the 
gods.  This  very  building  stands  now,  rededicated  by  the  popes 
as  the  temple  of  Christ  and  all  the  saints.  So  fateful  has  been 
the  force  of  this  analogy  between  the  old  polytheism  and  the 
new. 

The  attempt  is  made,  indeed,  to  hide  the  likeness  by  the  so- 
phistical distinction  between  /afrta  and  dulia;  but  its  wortii- 
lesisness  appears  from  this,  that  even  dulta  cannot  be  offered 
to  redeemed  creatures  without  ascribing  to  them,  by  an  un- 
avoidable implication,  the  attributes  peculiar  to  God.  In  one 
word,  fallen  men  of  all  ages  have  betrayed  a  powerful  tendency 
to  image-warship  and  polytheism.  Rome  provides  for  that  ten- 
dency in  a  way  the  most  adroit  possible,  for  an  age  nominally 
Christian  but  practically  unbelieving.  To  that  tendency  the 
religion  of  the  Rible  sternly  refuses  to  concede  anything,  re- 
quiring not  its  gratification,  but  it.s  extirpation.  This  cunning 
policy  of  Rome  had  sweeping  success  in  the  early  church.  The 
same  principle  won  almost  universal  success  in  the  ancient 
world.  It  will  succeed  again  here.  Many  will  exclaim  that  this 
prognostic  is  wholly  erroneous;  that  the  great,  bad  tendency  of 
our  age  and  country  is  to  agnosticism  as  against  all  religions. 
I  am  not  mistaken.  This  drift  will  be  as  temporary  as  it  is 
partial.  ^I.  Guizot  says  in  his  Meditations:  "One  never  need 
go  far  back  in  history  to  find  atheism  advancing  half  way  to 
meet  superstition."  A  wiser  analyst  of  human  nature  say.s: 
''Even  as  thev  did  not  like  to  retain  (rod  in  their  knowledge. 


THE    ATTRACTIONR    OF    POPERY.  559 

God  gave  them  over  to  a  reprobate  mind.''  "Professing  them- 
selves to  be  wise,  thev  became  fools,  and  changed  the  glory  of 
the  incorruptible  Gad  into  an  image  made  like  to  corruptible 
man,  and  to  birds,  and  four-footed  beasts,,  and  creeping  things." 
This  is  the  exact  pathology  of  superstition.  When  the  culture 
of  the  Augustan  age  taught  the  Romans  to  despise  the  religious 
faith  of  their  fathers,  there  was  an  interval  of  agnosticism.  But 
next,  the  most  refined  of  the  agnostics  were  seen  studying  the 
mysteries  of  Isis  and  practicing  the  foulest  rites  of  the  pagan- 
ism of  the  conquered  provinces.  Atheism  is  too  freezing  a 
blank  for  human  souls  to  inhabit  permanently.  It  outrages  too 
many  of  the  heart's  affections  and  of  the  reason's  first  princi- 
ples. A  people  who  have  cast  away  their  God,  when  they  diis- 
cover  this,  turn  to  false  gods.  For  all  such  wandering  spirits 
Rome  stands  with  open  doors;  there,  finally,  they  will  see  their 
most  convenient  refuge  of  superstition  in  a  catalogue  of  Chris- 
tian isaints  transformed  into  a  polytheism.  Thus  the  cravings 
of  superstition  are  satisfied,  while  the  crime  is  veiled  from  the 
conscience  b}'  this  pretence  of  scriptural  origin. 

(5.)  I  proceed  to  unfold  an  attraction  of  Romanism  far 
more  seductive.  This  is  its  proposal  to  satisfy  man'is  guilty 
heart  by  a  ritual  instead  of  a  spiritual  salvation.  As  all  know 
who  understand  the  popish  theology,  the  proposed  vehicle  of 
this  redemption  iby  forms  is  the  sacraments.  Romanists  are 
taught  that  the  New  Testament  sacraments  differ  from  those  of 
the  Old  Testament  in  this:  that  they  not  only  symbolize  and 
seal,  but  effectuate  grace  tx  opere  operato  in  the  souls  of  the 
recipients.  Rome  teaches  her  children  that  her  sacraments  are 
actual  charitsmatic  power  of  direct  supernatural  efficiency 
wrought  upon  recipients  by  virtue  of  a  portion  of  the  Holy 
Spirit's  omnipotence  conferred  upon  the  priest  in  ordination 
from  the  apostolic  succession.  The  Bible  teaches  that  in  tlu' 
case  of  all  adults  a  gracious  state  must  pre-exist  in  order  for 
any  beneficial  participation  in  the  sacrament,  and  that  the  only 
influence  of  the  sacrameutis  is  to  cherish  and  advance  that  pre- 
existing spiritual  life  by  their  didactic  effect,  as  energized  by 
God's  Spirit,  through  prayer,  faith,  watchfulness,  and  obedience, 
in  precisely  the  same  generic  mode  in  which  the  Holy  Sjtirit  en- 
ergizes the  written  and  preached  word.  Hence,  if  watchfulness, 
prayer,  obedience,  and  a  life  of  faith  are  neglected,  our  sacra- 


o60  THE    ATTRACTIONS    OF    POPEIiY. 

meuts  become  uo  .sacraments.  If  thou  be  a  breaker  of  the  law, 
tliy  "circuincLsiou  is  made  imcircumci.sion."  But  Rome  teacbe.s 
that  her  sacrament.s.  duly  administered  by  a  priest  havin"-  apos- 
tolic succession,  implant  spiritual  life  in  souls  hitherto  dead  in 
sin,  and  that  they  maintain  and  foster  this  life  by  a  direct  pow- 
er not  dependent  on  the  recipient's  dilioent  exercise  of  goispel 
principles.  Provided  the  recipient  be  not  in  mortal  .sin  unab- 
solved, the  sacrament  does  its  spiritual  work  upon  the  sinful 
soul,  whether  it  receives  it  in  the  exercise  of  saving  grace  or 
not.  (See  the  article,  "Prelacy  a  Blunder,"  in  Collected  Discus- 
sions,    Vol.  II.,  p.  218.) 

Now  let  no  Protestant  mind  exclaim:  "Surely  this  is  too 
gross  to  be  popular;  surely  jieople  will  have  too  much  sense  to 
think  that  they  can  get  to  heaven  by  this  species  jf  consecrated 
jugglery  I"  History  shows  that  thisischeme  of  redemption  is  al- 
most universally  accepta'ble  and  warmly  popular  with  sinful 
mankind.  Apprehend  aright  the  ideas  of  paganism,  ancient  and 
modern:  we  perceive  that  this  popish  conception  of  sacraments 
is  virtually  the  same  with  the  pagan's  conception  of  their  heath- 
en rites.  They  claim  to  'be  just  this  species  of  saving  ritual, 
working  their  benefit  upon  souls  precisely  by  this  opus  opera- 
turn  agency.  What  a  commentary'  have  we  here  upon  this  tenr 
dency  of  human  nature  to  a  ritual  salvation.  The  evangelists 
and  apostles  reintroduced  to  the  world  the  pure  conception  of 
a  spiritual  salvation  wrought  by  the  energy  of  divine  truth,  and 
not  of  church  rites;  received  by  an  intelligent  faith  in  the  saved 
man's  soul,  and  not  by  manual  ceremonial;  and  made  effectual 
by  the  enlightening  operation  of  the  Holy  (ihost  upon  heart  and 
mind  in  rational  accordance  with  truth,  not  by  a  priestly  incan- 
tation working  a  physical  miracle.  The  gospels  and.  epistles 
defined  and  separated  the  two  conceptions  as  plainly  as  words 
could  do  it.  But  no  ,sooner  were  the  apostles  gone  than  the 
pagan  conception  of  salvation  by  ritual,  instead  of  by  rational 
faith,  began  to  creep  back  into  the  patristic  church.  In  a  few 
hundred  years  the  wrong  conception  had  triumphed  completely 
over  the  correct  one  in  nearly  the  whole  of  Christendom,  and 
thenceforward  sacramental  grace  has  reigned  supreme  over  the 
whole  Roman  and  Greek  communions,  in  spite  of  modern  let- 
ters and  culture.  How  startling  this  commentary  ui)on  that 
tendency  of  human  nature  I    Surely  there  are  deep-tseated  prin- 


THE  ATTRACTIONS  OF  POPERT.  561 

ciples  in  man  tD  account  for  it. 

These  are  not  far  to  seek.  First,  men  are  sensuous  beings, 
and  hence  thev  naturally  crave  something  concrete,  material, 
and  spectacular  in  their  religion.  Dominated  as  they  are  by  a 
perpetual  current  of  sensations,  and  haying  their  auimalitv  ex- 
aggerated bv  their  sinful  nature,  they  are  sluggish  to  think  spir- 
itual truths,  to  look  by  faith  upon  invisible  objects;  they  i-rave 
to  walk  by  sight  rather  than  by  faith.  The  material  things  in 
mammon,  the  sensual  pleasures  which  they  see  with  their  eyes 
and  handle  with  their  fingers,  although  they  perfectly  know 
they  perish  with  the  using,  obscure  their  view  of  all  the  infinite, 
eternal  realities,  notwithstanding  their  professed  belief  of  them. 
Xeed  we  wonder  that  with  such  creatures  the  visible  and  man- 
ual ritual  should  prevail  over  the  spiritual  didactic?  Does  one 
exclaim,  "But  this  is  so  unreasonable — this  notion  that  a  ritual 
ceremonial  can  change  the  state  and  destiny  of  a  rational  and 
moral  spirit!"  I  reply,  ''Yes,  but  not  one  whit  more  irrational 
than  the  preference  which  the  whole  natural  world  gives  to  the 
things  which  are  seen  and  temporal,  as  it  perfectly  knows,  over 
the  things  which  are  unseen  and  eternal;  an  insanity  of  which 
the  educated  and  refined  are  found  ju,st  as  capable  as  the  ig- 
norant and  brutish."  But  the  other  principle  of  human  nature 
is  still  more  keen  and  pronounced  in  its  preference  for  a  ritual 
salvation.  This  is  its  deep-seated,  omnipotent  preference  for 
self-will  and  sin  over  spiritual  holiness  of  life.  The  natural 
man  has,  indeed,  his  natural  cou/science  and  remorse,  his  fear- 
ful looking  for  of  judgment,  his  natural  fear  of  misery,  which 
is  but  modified  selfishness.  These  make  everlasting  punishment 
very  terrible  to  his  apprehension. 

But  enmity  to  God,  to  his  spintual  service,  to  the  suprem- 
acy of  his  holy  will,  is  as  native  to  him  as  his  selfish  fear  is. 
Next  to  perdition,  there  is  no  conception  in  the  universe  so  re- 
liulsive  to  the  sinful  heart  of  man  as  that  of  genuine  repentance 
and  itis  fruits.  The  true  gospel  comes  to  him  and  says:  Here 
is,  indeed,  a  blessed,  glorious  redemption,  as  free  as  air.  as  se- 
cure as  the  throne  of  God,  but  instrumentally  it  is  conditional 
on  the  faith  of  the  heart;  which  faith  works  by  love,  purifies  the 
heart,  and  can  only  exist  as  it  co-existis  with  genuine  repent- 
ance, which  repentance  turns  honestly,  unreservedly,  here  and 
now,  without  shuffling  or  procrastination,  from  sin  unto  God, 


562  THE  ATTEACTIONS  OF  POPEEY. 

with  full  purpose  of  and  endeavor  after  new  obedience;  which 
is,  in  fact,  a  complete  surrender  of  the  sinful  will  to  God's  holy 
will,  and  a  hearty  enlistment  in  an  arduous  work  of  watchful- 
ness, self-denial,  and  self-discipline,  for  the  sake  of  inward  holi- 
ness, to  be  kept  up  as  long  as  life  lasts.    Soul,  emTbrace  this  task, 
and  this  splendid  salvation  shall  be  yours;  and  the  gracious 
Saviour,  who  purchases  it  for  you,  shall  sustain,  comfort,  and 
enable  you  in  this  arduous  enlistment,  so  that  even  in  the  midst 
of  the  warfare  you  shall  find  rest,  and  at  the  end  heaven;  but 
without  this  faith  and  this  repentance  no  sacraments  or  rights 
will  do  a  particle  of  good  towards  your  salvation.     Now,  this 
carnal  soul  has  no  faith;  it  is  utterly  mistrustful  and  skeptical 
as  to  the  possibility  of  this  peace  of  the  heart  in  the  spiritual 
warfare,  this  sustaining  power  of  the  in\'iisible  hand,  of  which 
it  has  had  no  experience.     This  complete  subjugation  of  self- 
will  to  God,  this  life  of  self-denial  and  vital  godliness,  appears 
to  this  soul  utterly  repulsive,  yea,  terrible.     This  guilty  usoul 
dreads  hell;  it  abhors  such  a  life  only  less  than  hell.     When 
told  by  Protestantism  that  it  must  thus  "turn  or  die."  this  car- 
nal soul  finds  itiself  in  an  abhorrent  dilemma;  either  term  of  the 
alternative  is  abominable  to  it.    But  now  comes  the  theory  of 
sacramental  grace  and  says  to  it  with  oily  tongue:    "Oh I  Prot- 
estantism exaggerates  the  dilemma!    Your  case  is  not  near  so 
bad!    The  sacraments  of  the  church  transfer  you  from  the  /state 
of  condemnation  to  that  of  reconciliation  by  their  own  direct 
but  mysterious  efliciency;  they  work  real  grace,  though  you  do 
not  bring  to  them  this  deep,  thoroughgoing  self-sacrifice  and 
self-consecratiim.    No  matter  how  much  you  sin,  or  how  often, 
repeated  masses  will  make  expiation  for  the  guilt  of  all  those 
sins    ex  opere  operato.     Thus,  with  her  other  sacraments  of  pen- 
ance and  extreme  unction.  Holy  Mother  Church  will  repair  all 
your  short-comings  and  put  you  back  into  a  salvable  state,  no 
matter  how  sinfully  you  live."    Need  we  wonder  that  this  false 
doctrine  is  as  sweet  to  that  guilty  soul  as  a  repiieve  to  the  felon 
at  the  foot  of  the  gallows?    He  can  draw  his  breath  again;  he 
can  say  to  himself:    ^'Ah,  then  the  abhorred  dilemma  does  not 
urge  me  here  and  now;  I  can  postpone  this  hated  reformation; 
I  can  still  tamper  with  cherished  sins  without  embracing  per- 
dition."    This  is  a  pleasant  doctrine;  it  suits  so  perfectly  the 
sinful,  selfish  soul  which  does  not  wish  to  part  with  its  sins, 
and  also  does  not  wish  to  lie  down  in  everlasting  burnings. 


THE  ATTRACTIONS  OF  POPEEY.  563 

This  deep-seated  love  of  siu  aud  self  has  also  another  re- 
sult: The  soul  is  conscious  that,  if  it  must  do  many  things 
which  it  does  not  like  in  order  to  avoid  perdition,  it  is  much 
pleasanter  to  do  a  number  of  ceremonial  things  than  to  do  any 
portion  of  spiritual  heart-work.  After  I  stood  my  graduate 
examination  in  philosophy  at  the  University  of  Virginia,  my 
professor,  the  venerable  George  Tucker,  showed  me  a  chea ting- 
apparatus  wliich  had  been  prepared  by  a  member  of  the  class. 
He  had  unluckily  dropped  it  upon  the  sidewalk,  and  it  had 
f  nind  its  way  to  the  professor's  hands.  It  was  a  narrow  blank- 
book,  made  to  be  hidden  in  the  coat-sleeve.  It  contained,  in 
exceedingly  small  penmanship,  the  whole  course,  in  the  form 
of  questions  from  the  professor's  recitations  with  their  answers 
copied  from  the  text-book.  It  was  really  a  work  of  much  labor. 
I  said,  ''The  strange  thing  to  me  is,  that  this  sorry  fellow  has  ex- 
pended upon  this  fraud  much  more  hard  labor  than  would  have 
enabled  him  to  prepare  himself  for  passing  honestly  and  hon- 
orably." Mr.  Tucker  replied,  "Ah,  my  dear  sir,  you  forget  that 
a  dunce  finds  it  easier  to  do  any  amount  of  mere  manual  drud- 
gery than  the  least  bit  of  true  thinking."  Here  we  have  an  ex- 
act illustration.  It  is  less  irksome  to  the  carnal  mind  to  do 
twelve  dozen  paternosters  tJy  the  beads  than  to  do  a  few  mo- 
ments of  real  heart-work.  Thoughtless  people  sometimes  say 
that  the  rule  of  Romish  piety  is  more  exacting  than  that  of  the 
Protestant.  This  is  the  explanation,  that  Rome  is  more  exact- 
ing as  to  form  and  ritual;  Bible  religion  is  more  exacting  as  to 
spiritual  piety  and  vital  godliness.  To  the  carnal  mind  the  lat- 
ter are  almost  insufferably  irksome  and  laborious;  the  form  and 
ritual,  easy  and  tolerable.  And  when  remorse,  fear,  and  self- 
righteousnesis  are  gratified  by  the  assurance  that  these  obser- 
vances really  promote  the  soul's  salvation,  the  task  is  made 
light.  Here  Rome  will  always  present  an  element  of  popularity 
as  long  as  mankind  are  sensuous  and  carnal. 

(0.)  To  a  shallow  view,  it  might  appear  that  the  popish  doc- 
trine of  purgatory  should  be  quite  a  repulsive  element  of  un- 
popularity with  sinners;  that  doctiine  is,  that  notwithstanding 
all  the  benefit  of  the  church's  sacraments  and  the  believer's  ef- 
forts, no  Christian  soul  goes  direct  to  heaven  when  the  body 
dies,  except  thoise  of  the  martyrs,  and  a  few  eminent  siiints,  who 
are,  as  it  were,  miracles  of  sanctification  in  this  life.    All  the 


564        THE  attraOtions  of  popery. 

clergy,  and  even  the  popes,  must  go  through  purgatory  in  spite 
of  the  apostolic  succession  and  the  infallibility.  There  the  re- 
mains of  carnality  in  all  must  be  burned  away,  and  the  deficien- 
cies of  their  penitential  work  in  this  life  made  good,  by  endur- 
ing penal  fires  and  torments  for  a  shorter  or  longer  time.  Then 
the  Christian  souls,  finally  purged  from  depravity  and  the  rea- 
urn  paenae,  enter  into  their  final  rest  with  Christ.  But  the 
alms,  prayers,  and  masses  of  survivons  avail  much  to  heli3  these 
'Christian  souls  in  purgatory  and  shorten  their  sufferings.  It 
might  be  supposed  that  the  Protestant  doctrine  should  be  much 
more  attractive  aud  popular,  viz.:  that  there  is  no  purgatory  or 
Intermediate  state  for  the  spirits  of  dead  men,  but  that  the 
"souls  of  believers,  being  at  their  death  made  perfect  in  holi- 
ness, do  immediately  enter  into  glory.''  This  ought  to  be  the 
more  attractive  doctrine,  and  to  Bible  believers  it  is  such,  but 
there  is  a  feature  about  it  which  makes  it  intensely  unpopular 
and  repellent  to  carnal  men,  and  gives  a  powerful  advanrage 
witli  them  to  the  popish  scheme.  That  feature  is,  the  sharpness 
and  strictness  of  the  alternative  which  the  Bible  doctrine  press- 
es upon  sinners:  "turn  or  die." 

The  Bible  offers  the  most  blessed  and  glorious  redemption 
conceivable  by  man,  gracious  and  free,  and  bestowing  a  con- 
summate blessedness  the  moment  the  body  dies.     But  it  is  on 
these  terms  that  the  gospel  must  be  embraced  by  a  penitent 
faith,  working  an  honest  and  thorough  revolution  in  the  life.   If 
the  sinner  refuses  this  until  this  life  ends,  he  seals  his  fate;  aud 
that  fate  is  final,  unchangeable,  and  dreadful.     Now,  it  is  no 
consolation  to  the  carnal  heart  that  the  gospel  assures  him  he 
need  not  run  any  risk  of  that  horrible  fate;  that  he  has  only 
to  turn  and  live;  that  very  turning  is  the  thing  which  he  ab- 
hors, if  it  is  to  be  done  in  spirit  and  in  truth.    He  intensely  de- 
sires to  retain  his  sin  and  self-will.    He  craves  earnestly  to  put 
oft"  the  evil  day  of  this  sacrifice  without  incurring  the  irrepara- 
ble penalty.    Now,  Rome  comes  to  him  and  tells  him  that  this 
Protestant  doctrine  is  unnnecessarily  harsh;  that  a  sinner  may 
continue  in  the  indulgence  of  his  sins  until  this  life  ends,  and 
yet  not  seal  himself  up  thereby  to  a  hopeless  hell;  that  if  he 
is  in  communion  with  the  Holy  Mother  Church  through  lier 
sacraments,  he  may  indulge  himself  in  this  darling  procrastina- 
tion without  ruining  himself  forever.    Thus  the  hateful  neces- 


THE  ATTRACTIONS  OF  POPERY.  565 

sity  t>f  present  repentance  is  postponed  awhile;  sweet,  precious 
privilege  to  the  sinner!    True,  he  must  expect  to  pay  due  pen- 
ance for  that  self-induloeuce  in  purgatory,  but  he  need  not  per- 
ish for  it.    The  Mother  Church  advises  him  not  t3  make  so  bad 
a  bargain  and  pay  so  dear  for  his  whistle.    But  she  assures  him 
that,  if  he  does,  it  need  not  ruin  him,  for  ishe    will     pull  liim 
through  after  a  little  by  her  merits  and  sacraments.    How  con- 
soling this  is  to  the  heart  at  once  in  love  with  sin  and  remorse- 
ful for  its  guilt  I     The  seductiveness  of  this  theory  of  redemp- 
tion to  the  natural  heart  Is  proved  by  this  grand  fact,  that  in 
principle  and  in  its  essence  this  scheme  of  purgatorial  cleans- 
ing has  had  a  prominent  place  in  every  religion  in  the  world 
that  is  of  human  invention.    The  Bible,  the  one  divine  religion, 
is  peculiar  in  rejecting  the  whole  concept.     Those  hoary  reli- 
gions, Brahmanism  and  Buddhism,  give  their  followers  the  vir- 
tual advantage  of  this  conception  in  the  transmigration  of  their 
souls.    The  guilt  of  the  sinner's  human  life  may  be  expiated  by 
the  sorrows  of  the  soul's  existence  in  a  series  of  animal  or  rep- 
tile bodies,  and   then  through  another  human  existence,  the 
penitent  and  purified  soul  may  at  last  reach  heaven.     Classic 
paganism  promised  the  same  escape  for  sinners,  as  all  familiar 
with  Virgil  know.     His  hero,  Aeneas,  when  visiting  the  under 
world,  saw  many  sinners  there  preparing  for  their  release  into 
the  Elysiau  fields,    ^fo^o   extrcentur  poenis,    et    veterum    malorum 
supplicia     expendunt.       Mohammed  extends  the  same  hope  to  all 
his  sinful  followers.    For  [hose  who  entirely  reject  Islam  there 
is  nothing  but  hell;  but  for  all  who  profess  'There  is  no  Ciod 
but  Allah,  and  Mohammed  is  his  prophet,"  there  is  a  purgatory 
after  death,  and  its  pains  are  shortened  by  his  intercession.  The 
Roman  and  Greek  Churches  flatter  the  sinful  world  with  the 
same  human  invention.    So  strong  is  this  craving  of  carnal  men 
to  postpone  the  issue  of  turning  to  God  or  perishing.    ^A'e  now 
see  its  effect  upon  the  most  cultured  minds  of  this  advanced 
nineteenth  century  in  the  New  England  doctrine  of  a  "second 
probation."    Ronu'  has  understood  human  nature  skilfully,  and 
has  adapted  her  bait  for  it  with  consummate  cunning.     Her 
scheme  is  much  more  acute  than  that  of  the  absolute  universal- 
ist  of  the  school  of  Hosea  Ballou,  for  this  outrages  man's  moral 
intuitions  too    grossly    by    rejecting   all    distinction    between 
guilt  and  righteousness.    This  bait  for  sin-loving  men  is  too 
bald. 


566  THE    ATTRACTIONS    OF    POPERY. 

It  must  be  added  that  the  doctrine  of  a  purgatory  and  of 
an  application  3f  redemption  after  death  is  intensely  attractive 
to  other  principles  of  the  human  heart,  much  more  excusable; 
to  some  affections,  indeed,  which  are  amiable.  I  allude  to  the 
solicitude  and  the  affection  of  believers  for  the  souls  of  those 
whom  they  loved  in  this  life,  "whD  died  and  made  no  sign."  The 
Bible  doctrine  is.  indeed,  a  solemn,  an  awful  one  to  Christians 
bereaved  by  the  impenitent  deaths  of  children  and  relatives. 
It  is  our  duty  to  foresee  this  solemn  result,  and  to  provide 
against  it  by  d:)ing  everything  which  intercessory  prayer,  holy 
example  and  loving  instruction  and  entreaty  can  d3  to  prevent 
such  a  catastrophe  in  the  case  of  all  those  near  to  our  hearts. 
But  human  self-indulgence  is  prone  to  be  slack  in  employing 
this  safeguard  against  this  sorrow.  Let  us  picture  to  ourselves 
such  a  bereaved  Christian,  sincere,  yet  partially  self-condemned, 
and  doubtful  or  fearful  or  hopeless  concerning  the  thorough 
conversion  of  a  child  who  has  been  cut  down  by  death.  Of  all 
the  elements  of  bereavement  none  is  so  bitter,  so  immedicable, 
as  the  fear  that  he  whom  he  loved  must  suffer  the  wrath  of 
God  forever,  and  that  now  he  is  beyjnd  reach  of  his  prayers 
and  help.  To  such  a  one  comes  the  Romish  priest  with  this 
species  of  discourse.  See  now  how  harsh  and  cruel  is  this  here- 
tical Protestant  dogma  I  Instead  of  offering  consolation  to 
your  Christian  sorrow  it  embitters  it  as  with  a  drop  of  hell  fire. 
But  Holy  Mother  Church  is  a  mild  and  loving  comforter;  she 
assures  you  that  yaur  loved  one  is  not  necessarily  lost;  he  may 
have  to  endure  keen  penances  in  purgatory  for  a  time,  but  there 
is  a  glorious  hope  to  sustain  him  and  you  under  tliem.  Every 
minute  of  pain  is  bringing  the  final  heaven  nearer,  and  the  most 
blessed  part  of  our  teaching  is  that  your  love  can  still  follow 
him  and  help  him  and  bless,  as  it  was  wont  to  do  under  those 
earthly  chastisements  of  his  sins.  It  is  your  privilege  still  to 
pray  for  him.  and  your  prayers  avail  to  lighten  his  sufferings 
and  to  shorten  them.  Your  love  can  still  find  that  generous 
solace  which  was  always  so  sweet  to  you  amidst  yttur  former 
sorrows  for  his  sins  and  his  earthly  sufferings — the  solace  of 
helping  him  and  sharing  his  pains.  Your  alms  also  may  avail 
for  him:  masses  can  be  multiplied  by  your  means,  which  will 
make  merit  to  atone  for  his  penitential  guilt  and  hasten  his 
blessed  release.     Who  can  doubt  that  a  loving  heart  will  be 


THE  ATTRACTIONS  OF  POPERY.  567 

powerfully  seduced  by  this  promise,  provided  it  can  persuade 
itself  of  its  certaiuty,  or  even  of  its  probable  truth?  Here  is 
the  stron<;h3ld  of  Romanism  on  sincere,  amiable,  and  affection- 
ate souls.  Of  course,  the  real  question  is,  whether  any  pastor  or 
priest  is  authorized  by  God  to  hold  out  these  hopes  to  the  be- 
reaved. If  they  are  unwarrantable,  then  this  presentation  is  an 
artifice  of  unspeakable  cruelty  and  profanity.  Under  the  pre- 
tence of  softening:  the  pain  of  bereavement  to  God's  children,  if 
is  adding  to  wicked  deception  the  most  mischievous  influences 
upon  the  living  by  contradicting  those  solemn  incentives  to  im- 
mediate repentance  which  God  has  set  up  in  his  word,  and  by 
tempting  deluded  souls  with  a  false  hope  to  neglect  their  real 
opportunity.  If  the  h3pe  is  not  grounded  in  the  word  of  God, 
then  its  cruelty  is  equal  to  its  deceitfulness.  But  the  sutt'ering 
heart  is  often  weak,  and  it  is  easier  to  yield  to  the  temptation 
of  accepting  a  deceitful  consolation  than  to  brace  itself  up  to 
the  plain  but  stern  duty  of  ascertaining  God's  truth. 

I  have  thus  set  in  array  the  influences  which  Rome  is  now 
wielding  through  )ut  our  country  for  the  seduction  of  human 
souls.  Some  of  these  weapons  Protestants  put  into  her  hands  by 
their  own  unfaithfulness  and  folly.  God  has  a  right  to  blame 
Rome  for  using  this  species  of  weapon  in  favor  of  the  wrong 
cause,  but  these  Protestants  have  not. 

There  is  another  class  of  weapons  which  Rome  finds  in  the 
iblindness  and  sinfulness  of  human  nature.  Her  guilt  may  be 
justly  summed  up  in  this  statement:  That  these  are  precisely 
the  errors  and  crimes  of  humanity  which  the  church  of  Christ 
should  have  labored  to  suppress  and  extirpate;  whereas  Rome 
caters  to  them  and  fosters  them  in  order  to  use  them  for  her 
aggrandizement.  Rut  none  the  less  are  these  weapons  potent. 
They  are  exactly  adapted  to  the  nature  of  fallen  man.  As  they 
always  have  been  successful,  they  will  continue  to  succeed  in 
this  country.  Our  republican  i-ivil  constitutions  will  prove  no 
adequate  shield  against  them.  Our  rationalistic  culture,  by 
weakening  the  authority  of  God's  word,  is  only  opening  the  way 
for  their  ulterior  victory.  Our  scriptural  ecclesiastical  order 
will  be  no  sufficient  bulwark.  The  primitive  churches  had  that 
liulwark  in  its  strongest  Presbyterian  form,  but  poi)ery  steadily 
undermined  it.  What  if  did  once  it  can  do  again.  There  will 
be  no  effectual  check  upon  another  spread  of  this  error  except 
the  work  of  the  Holy  Ghost.  True  and  powerful  revivals  will 
save  American  Protestantism;  nothing  else  will. 


THE  INFLUENCE   OF  FALSE    PHILOSOPHIES 
UPON  CHAKACTER  AND  CONDUCT.' 


Tboughrful  men  who  read  the  vai'ious  st-hools  of  philosophy 
are  struck  with  one  feature  common  to  the  erroneous  theories. 
This  is  the  Icfh'  assumption  bv  their  authors  of  complete  irre- 
sponsibility for  results.  Let  the  corollaries  of  their  positions 
be  destructive  to  either  ethics  or  theology,  that  does  not  con- 
cern them.  They  say,  philosophy  has  its  supreme  rights,  let 
them  prevail,  whatever  else  perishes.  This,  of  course,  clearly 
implies  the  cool  assumption  by  each  author  that  his  philosoph}' 
is  the  al)solutely  true  one;  which  again  implies  that  he  believes 
himself  infallible  in  it.  Yet  each  contradicts  the  sound  phil- 
osophers, and  also  each  of  his  fellow  heretics.  Schwegler  dis- 
dains all  the  great  scholastics,  pronouncing  them  incapable  jf 
real  philosophy,  because  they  avowed  the  supremacy  of  the 
Roman  theology  over  all  speculation.  He  evidently  knows  lit- 
tle about  them,  or  he  would  have  been  aware  how  little  their 
license  of  philosophic  speculation  was  really  curbed  by  pre- 
tended respect  for  Bible,  councils,  or  popes.  They  could  al- 
ways evade  their  restraints  by  their  distinction — that  what  was 
theologically  true,  might  yet  be  philosophically  false. 

Xow  it  is  as  plain  as  common  sense  can  make  it,  that  if 
there  are  any  propositions  of  natural  theology  logically  estab- 
lished, if  any  principle  of  ethics  impreguably  grounded  in  man's 
universal,  necesisary  judgments,  if  any  infallible  revelation,  any 
philosophy  that  conflicts  with  either  of  the.se  is  thereby  proven 
false.  Xow,  I  believe  there  is  an  infallible  revelation.  There- 
fore, unless  I  am  willing  to  become  infidel,  the  pretended  phil- 
osopher who  impinges  against  revelation  has  no  claim  on  me  to 
be  even  listened  to,  much  less  believed;  unless  he  has  proved 
himself  infallible.  There  are  also  fundamental  moral  principles 
supported  by  the  universal  experience  and  consent  of  mankind, 
and  regulating  the  laws  of  all  civilized  nations  in  all  ages.    All 

1 Appeared  in  Homiletic  Review,  January,  1896.  568 


THE  INFLUENCE  OF  MORAL  PHILOSOPHY.  569 

human  history  and  God's  Word  testify,  moreover,  that  the  dom- 
imincj^  of  these  moral  principles  is  the  supreme  end  for  which 
the  universe  exists,  and  for  which  Providence  rules  (read  But- 
ler's ''Analogy").  The  rule  of  God's  final  judgment  is  to  be: 
everlasting  goiod  to  the  righteous,  condemnation  to  the  wicked. 
Here  then  is  a  criterion,  as  firmly  estaiblished  as  the  founda- 
tiofUiS  of  human  reason  and  the  pillars  of  God's  throne.  He  who 
discards  this  criterion  makes  man  a  reasonless  'brute,  and  the 
world  an  atheistic  chaos;  that  man  has  no  longer  any  right  to 
any  philosophy,  any  more  than  a  pig.  For  has  he  not  discarded 
the  essential  conditions  of  all  philosophy,  intuitive  reasons  in 
man,  and  rational  order  in  the  series  of  causes  and  effects?  We 
may,  therefore,  safely  adopt  this  criterion  as  a  touchstone  for 
every  philosophy — that  if  it  unsettles  cionscience  and  God,  it  is 
erroneous. 

I  have  now  brought  my  reader  to  the  eminent  point  of  view 
from  which  he  sees  that  the  real  tendency  of  all  false  philosophy 
must,  in  the  end,  be  against  good  morals  and  religion.  Lord 
Bac«n  has  nobly  said  that  all  the  lines  of  true  philosophy  con- 
verge upward  to  God.  The  ethical  criterion,  which  is  the  final, 
supreme  rule  of  God,  mankind,  and  the  universe,  must  be  the 
apex  of  a  true  philosophy.  The  philosophic  lines  which  curve 
aside  from  God  and  right  morals  must  therefore,  in  the  end, 
pervert  character  and  conduct. 

I  shall  be  told  that  many  speculators,  whose  philosophy  I 
hold  wrong,  lived  better  lives,  perhaps,  than  mine.  A  Spinoza, 
a  Fichte,  a  Littre,  a  Stuart  Mill,  a  Tyndall,  were  virtuous  men; 
even  Helvetius  was  an  amiable  neighbor,  and  an  honest  fiscal 
officer.  Granted.  Again,  they  resent  my  conclusion,  as  a  big- 
ot's insult,  and  a  tyrannical  ^bond  upon  philosophic  freedom  of 
thought.  I  reply:  Nobody  has  any  freedom  rightfully  to  think 
against  God  and  righteousness.  I  reply  again:  I  have  assert- 
ed this  evil  tendency,  as  only  a  tendeaicy,  in  many,  not  always 
a  present  result.  Personally,  I  am  glad  to  give  full  credit  to  the 
goiod  character  of  individual  opponents.  Again,  the  virtues  of 
these  errorists  were  really  the  fruits  of  the  side  influences  and 
social  habitudes  of  the  very  religion  and  philosophy  which  they 
tried  to  discard.  Spin6za  was  reared  by  Jewish  parents  under 
monotheism  and  the  ten  commandments.  Fichte,  like  Kant, 
was  a  candidate  for  the  Lutheran  ministry.    Tyndall  and  Dra- 


570  THE  INFLUENCE  OF  MORAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

per  were  both  sons  of  pious  mou-conformist  ministers  in  Eng- 
land. But  tlie  real  question  is:  What  of  the  moral  influence 
of  their  philosophies  on  the  untrained  and  ignorant  masses? 
Lastly,  whatever  the  civic  virtue  of  these  gentlemen,  none  of 
them  ever  pretended  to  spiritual  .sanctity;  wliicli  is  the  higher 
and  only  immortal  phase  of  virtue.  The  character  which  re- 
gards man,  the  less,  but  disregards  God,  the  greater,  can  not 
be  wholly  sound,  and  can  not  retain  its  partial  soundness  per- 
manentlj'.    This  is  the  inspired  argument;  and  it  is  a  fortiori: 

"A  son  honareth  his  father,  and  a  servant  his  master;  if 
then  I  be  a  father,  where  is  mine  honor?  and  if  I  be  a  master, 
where  is  my  fear?  saith  the  Lord  of  hosts  unto  you,  O  prieS'ts, 
that  despise  my  name"  (Mai.  i.  6). 

I.    A  question  concerning  the  influence  of  a  false  philoso- 
jtliy  may  be  tried  historically.    Here  are  the  facts.    The  national 
philosophy  of  China  is  that  of  Confucius,  which,  we  are  told, 
is  simply  modern  agnosticism.     The     civil     administration  of 
China,  and   the  domestic  morals,  are  rotten  with   corrujjtion. 
Lying,  oi)ium  drunkenness,  cruelty,  bribery,  cheating,  infanti- 
cide are  current.     India  has  a  great  and  ancient  philosophy — 
pantheism.     Her  religions,  Brahmanism    and    Buddhism,  are 
pantheistic.    When  the  British  went  there,  despotism,  bribery, 
polygamy,  the  suttee,  infanticide,  ofiicial    plunderiugs,    lying, 
and  cheating  were  prevalent  institutions.  Oaths  in  court  count- 
ed for  nothing  at  all  in  administering  justice.     Thuggism  was 
a  religion.    In  Greece,  the  sounder  philosophy  was  supplanted 
by  that  of  the  E})icureans,  Sophists,  Skeptics,     and     the  New 
Academy.     Then  the  glory  departed,  and  Greece  ^became  vile 
enough  for  her  slavery.     Then  Roman  virtue  also  died,  and  a 
vast  moral  rottenness  brought  on  the  ''decline  and  fall'  of  the 
empire.    In  the  eighteenth  century,  France  adopted  the  sensu- 
alist philosophy  of  Voltaire,  and  the  selfish  ethics  of  Helvetius. 
The  fruit  was  the  Keign  of  Terror.    In  Russia,  the  Nihilism  of 
Bakunin  is  a  philosophy,  that,  namely,  of  materialism  and  ag- 
nosticism; its  products  are  anarchy,  i»rostitution,  and  assas- 
sination.    The  same  philosophy  has  shown  us  the  same  fruits 
in  Paris.  New  York,  and  Chicago.     Lastly,  everybody  sorrow- 
fully admits  the  decadence  of  political,  commercial,  and  domes- 
tic virtue  in  this  country.    We  need  not  detail  the  melancholy 
instances,  or  paint  the  contrast  between  the  Americans  of  to- 


THE  INFLUElSrCE  OF  MORAL  PHILOSOPHY.  571 

day  and  the  America  of  Monroe  and  J.  Q.  Adams.  Since  the 
hitter  epocli,  the  philosophy  of  Conite,  Stuart  Mill,  and  Darwin 
haiS  been  rapidly  gaining  ground. 

Shall  I  be  told  that  these  are  only  chance  coincidences  and 
nor  causal  sequences?  According  to  the  inductive  lagic,  se- 
quences so  regularly  recurring  raise  a  strong  probability,  if  not 
a  certainty,  of  a  true  causal  relation.  Again,  could  instances 
be  adduced  of  the  reverse  order,  where  the  incoming  lof  a  true 
l)hil(Ksop'hy  resulted  in  a  decay  of  morals,  our  opponents  might 
have  some  offset  to  our  facts:  but  there  are  no  such  cases. 

II.  And  I  now  proceed  to  shiow  that  the  sequences  are 
causal,  by  disclosing  in  these  false  philosophies  obvious  causes 
of  corruption. 

Here  an  important  fact  should  be  brought  forward.  ]\Ian's 
moral  nature  is  diseased.  Some  perversion  of  will  is  inherited 
by  every  man.  Hence,  farther  moral  decay  is  natural  and  easy; 
while  the  ascent  back  toward  a  higher  virtue  is  arduous.  Hu- 
man souls  are  like  a  loaded  train  upon  a  down  grade,  whose 
slight  inclination,  below  the  horizioutal,  increaises  as  it  advances. 
The  natural  tendency  of  the  train  is  to  descend  slowly  at  first, 
then  with  accelerated  speed  toward  the  final  crash.  A  good 
brake  (a  true  philosophy)  is  quite  efficient  to  keep  the  train  sta- 
tionary; thus  much  of  good  it  can  do.  But  the  'best  brake  can 
not  push  the  train  upgrade,  while  a  false  lone,  failing  to  lock 
the  wheels,  insures  the  descent  and  ruin  of  the  train.  Divine 
grace  furnishes  the  omly  sure  power  for  driving  the  train  up- 
ward against  nature. 

I  know  that  it  is  the  trick  of  all  erroneous  philosophies  to 
(miit  or  deny  this  natural  evil  qualifying  the  moral  disposition 
of  man;  tio  pretend  not  to  see  it,  to  philosophize  as  though  right- 
eouisness  were  as  natural  to  man  as  sin  is.  To  this  arrogancy 
I  shall  not  yield  am  inch.  As  a  philosophic  analysis,  it  is  false; 
it  dishonestly  refuses  to  see  a  fact  in  human  nature  as  plain 
and  large  as  any  other  fact  in  psychology.  This  evil  disposition 
now  qualifying  man's  essentia  is  as  clearly  proved  as  any  other 
fundamental  instinct,  faculty,  lor  appetency.  How  do  they  find 
out  that  man,  unlike  the  i)ig  or  the  ox,  is  an  esthetic  creature? 
In  the  very  same  way,  were  they  consistent,  they  should  find 
out  that  he  is  by  nature  a  sinning  creature.  All  human  experi- 
ence, all  expedients  of  legislation,  all  history,  every  candid  con- 


572  THE  INFLUENCE  OF  MORAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

sciousness,  confirm  it.  I  say,  therefore,  plainly,  that  I  shall 
postulate,  throughout  this  discussion,  this  tendency  in  man 
toward  moral  decadence.  It  is  a  fact,  and  my  argument  shall 
be  that  eA-ery  dogma  in  theology,  philosophy,  politics,  or  busi- 
ness, which  lifts  off  the  soul  any  form  of  moral  restraint,  tends 
to  moral  corruption.  Let  us  see  whether  each  of  these  false 
philosophies  does  not  abolish  some  moral  check. 

The  key-note  of  Buddhism  is,  that  since  feeble  man's  pur- 
suit of  the  rjibjects  of  his  appetencies  results  in  failure  and  pain, 
his  true  virtue  is  to  annihilate  all  appetencies,  and  thus  win 
nirvana.  Then,  of  cour-se,  not  only  the  animal,  but  the  social  ap- 
petencies— ^sympathy,  benevolence,  pity,  friendship,  conjugal, 
filial,  and  even  parental  love — must  be  expunged  out  of  the 
philosopher's  soul  in  order  to  make  him  holy,  forsooth!  For 
the  appetencies  set  in  motion  by  these  affections  are  the  occa- 
sions of  far  the  deepest  and  most  pungent  grief?;  of  human  ex- 
istence. That  is  to  say:  the  Buddhist  saint,  in  order  to  be  per- 
fect, must  make  himself  a  cold,  inhuman  villain,  recreant  to  ev- 
ery social  duty.  Such,  indeed,  their  own  history  makes  their 
chief  "hero  of  the  faith.''  Prince  Gautama,  who  begins  his  saint- 
ship  by  absconding  like  a  coward,  and  forsaking  all  his  duties 
to  his  wife,  his  son,  his  concubines,  his  parents,  and  his  subjects. 
But  they  say  he  afterward  showed  sublime  altruism  by  offering 
his  body  to  be  eaten  by  a  hungry  tigress,  which  had  not  suc- 
ceeded in  torturing  and  devouring  enough  antelopes  to  make 
milk  for  her  cubs.  Bah  I  methinks  he  would  have  done  better 
to  care  for  his  own  deserted  human  cub  I 

Once  more,  the  scheme  founds  itself  on  an  impossibility, 
^[an  can  not  by  his  volition  expunge  native  appetencies,  be- 
cause these  furnish  the  only  springs  of  volitions.  Can  the  child 
be  its  own  father?  Eating  results  in  dyspepsia;  therefore,  not 
only  cease  eating  absolutely,  but  cease  being  hungry.  That  is 
the  recipe  for  the  distress  of  dyspepsia!  But  first,  it  i.s  impos- 
sible; second,  were  it  done,  all  mankind  would  be  destroyed  in 
a  few  weeks.  Common  sense  says  that  when  a  man  goes  to  pro- 
fessing the  impossible  he  begins  to  be  a  cheat.  And  this  is  the 
practical  trait  of  Buddhism. 

They  say  the  doctrine  of  transmigration  is  a  great  moral 
check,  teaching  the  Hindus  to  avoid  sin  by  the  fear  of  migrating 
at  death  into  some  more  miserable  animal  form.     Is  it  not  a 


THE  INFLUENCE  OF  MORAL  PHILOSOPHY.  673 

better  check  to  teach  them  that  at  death  they  will  at  ouce  staud 
in  judgment  before  an  all-wise,  just,  and  almighty  Judge?  May 
not  that  Buddhist  doctrine  also  frequently  incite  living  men  to 
the  fiercest  brutality  to  animals,  by  the  supposition  that  those 
animals  are  now  animated  by  the  souls  of  hated  enemies? 

The  pantheism  of  China,  India,  and  the  modems  has  com- 
mon moral  features.  And  the  fatal  influences  are  so  plain  that, 
while  they  are  of  vast  and  dreadful  importance,  they  may  be 
despatched  in  few  words. 

Then,  first,  when  I  act,  it  is  God  acting.  You  must  not 
cDudemn  me,  whatever  villainies  I  act,  because  that  would  be 
condemning  God!  Second,  whatever  men  and  devils  act  is  but 
God  acting.  Then  where  is  the  possibility  of  God's  having,  in 
himself,  any  rational  standard  of  right,  by  which  to  condemn 
our  sins?  Does  God's  will  in  himself  judge  and  condemn  his 
same  will  emitted  in  our  actions?  Or  can  that  will  be  any 
moral  standard  at  all  which  is  thus  self-contradictory?  Such 
a  moral  ruler  would  be  worse  for  the  pulpit,  than  none  at  all — 
atheism  less  confusing  and  corrupting  than  pantheism.  Third, 
God's  existence  and  actions  are  necessary,  if  any  actions  are; 
but  God  acting,  I  have  no  free  agency.  But  if  not  a  free  agent, 
I  can  not  be  justly  accountable.  Fourth,  God  is  an  abs9lute 
unit  and  unchangeable  being,  eternal  and  necessary.  There- 
fore, if  all  happiness  and  misery  in  creatures  are,  at  bottom, 
God's  own  affections,  there  can  be  no  real  difference  between 
happiness  and  misery  (Spinoza's  own  corollary).  What  will  be 
the  effect  of  this  inference  upon  that  excellent  quality,  mercy? 
The  dogma  must  breed  indifference  ta  others'  suffering,  as  much 
as  stoicism  under  one's  own.  Its  tendency  is  toward  a  hard- 
heartedness  as  pitiless  as  the  tiger,  the  fire,  and  the  tempest. 
Fifth,  if  God  is  all,  there  is  but  one  substance  in  the  universe. 
All  other  seeming  personal  beings  are  modal  manifestations  of 
the  One.  Hence,  each  creature  is  but  a  temporary  phenomenon, 
a  wavelet  upon  this  ocean  of  being.  Death,  therefore,  is  a  re- 
absorption  into  the  One.  It  is  nirvana,  the  absolute,  eternal 
extinction  of  personality  and  consciousness — thus  all  panthe- 
ists. Then  for  this  other  reason  there  can  be  no  personal  re- 
sponsibility, or  reward,  or  punishment  in  the  future.  All  the 
moral  restraints  of  the  doctrine  of  future  judgment  are  as  much 
swept  away  as  by  atheism. 


574  THE  INFLtlENCE  Of  MORAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

We  must  be  brief.  Hartinanu  and  Schopenhauer  have 
shown  that  idealistic  pantheism  must  lead  to  pessimism.  But 
all  our  new-fangled  philosophies  seem  to  think  pessimism  a 
very  naughty  thing.  It  is  their  favorite  bad  word,  with  which 
to  pelt  a  Calvinist,  a  conservative,  or  an3'  other  wh^m  they  di.>- 
like — to  cry:  "Oh.  he  is  a  pessimist!"  But  seriously,  is  pessim- 
ism a  hopeful  or  healthv  outlook  for  a  good  man?  What  room 
does  it  leave  for  the  tria  of  supreme  virtues:  faith,  hope,  and 
charity?  On  this  head  it  is  enough  to  name  the  charge,  often 
and  justly  made  against  the  Darwinian  doctrine  of  the  "su?- 
vival  of  the  fittest/'  and  the  fated  extinction  of  the  naturally 
weaker;  that  it  tends  to  produce  a  pitiless  hardheartedness.  Tbe 
inference  is  logical;  look  and  see. 

The  old  saw,  "'Extremes  meet,"  was  never  truer  than  it  is 
of  pantheism  and  atheism.  The  latter  says:  "There  is  no  Gad 
at  all";  the  former:  "Everything  is  God."  But  the  moral  re- 
sults of  both  are  closely  akin.  In  this,  my  indictment  includes 
genuine  Darwinism;  for  there  is  now  no  doubt  that  Dr.  Darwin, 
like  his  most  consistent  pupils,  Haeckel,  Buchner,  etc..  believ- 
ed that  the  doctrine  ought  to  exclude  both  spirit  and  Gad.  Their 
logic  is  consistent;  for  if  all  teleology  is  'banished  out  of  na- 
ture, and  if  that  in  man  which  thinks,  feels,  and  wills  is  but  an 
evolution  of  brute  impulses,  inherent  in  sensorial  matter,  there 
is  no  spiritual  substance.  We  must  have  materialistic  monism. 
Then  every  moral  restraint  arising  out  of  the  expec- 
tation of  future  responsibility,  rewards,  and  punish- 
ments, is  utterly  swept  awa}'.  Whj^  should  men  conclude 
anything  but.  "Let  us  eat  and  drink,  for  to-morrow  we  dieV"" 
To  borrow  Carlyle"s  rough  phrasing:  "If  mine  is  a  pig's 
destiny,  why  may  I  not  hold  this  -pig  philosophy"?"  Again, 
if  I  am  but  an  animal  refined  by  evolution.  I  am  entitled  to 
live  an  animal  life.  Why  not?  The  leaders  in  this  and 
the  sensualistic  philosophy  may  themselves  be  restrained  by 
their  habits  of  mental  culture,  social  discretion  and  personal 
refinement  (for  which  they  are  indebted  to  reflex  Christian 
influences);  but  the  herd  of  common  mortals  are  not  cultured 
and   refined,    and  in    them  the  doctrine  will  bear  its  deadly 

fruit. 

Our  opponents  say  that  they  can  discard  these  jld-fash- 
ioned  restraints  of  theologic  superstitions,  and  apply  better  and 


THE  INFLUENCE  OF  MORAL  PHILOSOPHY.  675 

more  refined  checks  upon  the  coarser  vices,  Aiz.,  by  showing-  men 
that  the  refined  pleasures  of  temperance,  esthetic  tastes,  cul- 
ture, and  altruism  are  higher  and  sweeter  than  the  coarse  plea- 
sures of  vice;  and  that  the  two  classes  are  incompatible,  so  that 
the  lower  should  be  sticrificed  for  the  higher.  Yes;  the  world 
has  known  of  that  subterfuge  from  the  days  lof  Epicurus;  and 
Imows  its  worthlessness.  Here  is  the  fatal  reply;  and  its  logic 
is  plain  enough  to 'be  grasped  by  the  coarsest:  '^porcus  de  grege. 
Epicuri  cute  bene  curataP  Refined  Mr.  Epicurus,  it  depends 
entirely  upon  each  man's  natural  constitutional  tastes  which 
ckiss  of  pleasures  shall  be  to  him  highest  and  sweetest.  You 
say  that  to  you  music,  art,  letters  are  such;  you  were  born  so. 
I  am  so  born  that  these  are  but  "•caviare''  to  me,  while  my  best 
pleasures  are  gluttony,  drink,  lust,  gambling,  and  prize-fights. 
The  philosopher  is  answered. 

Little  space  remains  to  me  for  unmasking  the  e\il  tenden- 
cies of  other  sensualistic,  expediency,  and  utilitarian  i>hiloso- 
phies.    The  reader  must  take  hints.    Their  common  key-note  is : 
no  a  priroi,    common,  ruling  intuitions  of  necessary,  rational 
truths,  either  logical  or  moral.      Nihil  in    intellectu     quod    non 
prius   in  sensu.     Very  well!    Neither  spirit  nor  God  is  cognized 
by  any  sense-faculty.    Therefore,  philosophy  should  Icnow  noth- 
ing about  either,    b^econdly,  the  concept  of  the  moral  good,  or 
virtuousness  in  actions,  is  not  cognized  by  any  sense-faculty.    Is 
it  seen  as  a  fine  color,  smelled  as  a  perfume,  heard  with  the 
ears  as  a  harmony,  tasted  with  the  mouth  as  a  savor,  felt  with 
the  fingers  as  satin  or  velvet?     No.     Then  philosophy  should 
know  nothing  at)out  it.    It  should  say  there  are  no  such  things 
in  the  soul  as  distinctly  ethical  feelings;  nothing  but  sensitive 
ones  and  their  combinations.    For  mind  can  only  feel  as  it  sees; 
where  it  sees  nothing  it  should  feel  nothing.     Then  there  are 
two  results;  there  is  no  science  of  ethics,  nothing  but  a  psych- 
ology of  sensibilities,  which  being  merely  personal,  there  is  no 
source  for  any  altruism;  it  is  a  silly  fiction.     And,  next,  since 
the  sensibilities  are  only  moved  by  objective  causes,  there  is 
no  free  agency.     Look  and  see.     Hume  was  logical  in  'becom- 
ing fatalist  and  atheist.    So  Hobbes,  the  father  of  modern  sen- 
sualism. 

Finally,  there  is  a  modem  class  of  professed  religionists 
who  seem  to  regard  Mill,  Darwin,  Spencer,  and  Huxley  as  very 


576  THE  INFLtlENCE  OF  MORAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

apostles  of  philosophy  (wh^-,  we  know  not);  and  when  thereaf- 
ter proclaiming-  their  agnosticism,  add,  that  they  still  leave 
i-oom  for  religion;  that  while  religion  has  no  stauding-grr>nnd 
in  philosiophy,  she  may  be  admitted  in  the  sphere  of  feeling. 
Our  pious  neighbors  are  very  thankful!  This  is  the  "advanced 
thought"  destined  to  sweep  everything  before  it;  and  we  are 
so  grateful  that  it  still  leaves  us  a  corner  for  our  dear  religion! 
But  common  sense  says:  "Thank  you  for  nothing,  Messrs.  Ag- 
noistics.  You  have  not  left  any  comer  for  our  precious  religion. 
Better  speak  out  as  honest  atheists.  The  universal  law  of  mind 
is  that  it  can  only  feel  normally  as  it  sees  intelligently.  ^Yhere 
there  is  no  logical  ground  for  credence,  there  should  be  no 
source  for  feeling." 

In  trutli,  they  let  me  keep  my  religion  at  the  price  of  turn- 
ing fool! 


THE  SAN  MARCOS  RIVER. 

Mysterious  river!  whence  thy  bidden  source? 

The  rain  drops  from  far-distant  field  and  fell. 
Urging  through  countless  paths  their  darkling  course. 

Combine  their  tiny  gifts  thy  flood  to  swell. 
What  secrets  hath  thy  subterranean  stream 

Beheld;  as  it  has  bathed  the  deepest  feet 
Of  everlasting  hills,  which  never  beam 

Of  sun  or  star  or  lightning's  flash  did  greet? 
Over  what  cliffs  rushed  rhou  in  headlong  fall 

Into  some  gulf  of  Erebus  so  deep 
Thy  very  foam  was  black  as  midnight's  pall; 

And  massive  roof  of  rock  and  mountain  steep 
Suppressed  thy  thunders,  so  that  the  quick  ears 

Of  fauns  recumbent  on  its  lofty  side 
Heard  not:  and  grass  blades,  laden  with  the  tears 

Of  night  dews,  felt  no  quiver  from  thy  tide? 
Through  days  and  weeks,  uncounted  by  the  sun, 

Thy  waters  in  abysmal  caves  have  lain 
In  slow  lustration,  ere  they  sought  to  run 

Forth  to  the  day,  purged  from  earth's  least  stain. 
Pallas- Athene  of  the  i-ivers,  thou! 

Who  leapest  adult  in  thy  glittering  might 
From  yonder  hoary  mountain.  Zeus'  brow. 

Whose  cloven  crags  parted  to  give  thee  light. 
Thou  teachest  us.  wise  virgin;  as  through  caves, 

Sad  and  tear-dropping,  steal  thy  sobbing  waves, 
Then  flash  to  day;  so  virtue's  weeping  night 

Shall  surely  break  into  the  dawn's  delight. 

Emblem,  thou,  of  maiden's  love. 

Buried  deep  in  modest  heart; 

Growing  there  to  secret  strength. 

Hiding,  swelling,  till  at  length 

Its  Lord's  caresses  bid  it  start 

To  life  and  joy!  Then  forth  it  springs. 

Circling  glad  in  radiant  rings; 

Bliss  and  fruitfulness  it  brings. 

Naiad  bright,  so  deckest  thou 

With  wedding  wreaths  thy  shining  brow. 

Trailing  ever  verdant  bands 

Of  fern  and  lily;  as  the  lands 

Thou  weddest  with  thy  close  embrace, 

In  thy  laughing,  seaward  race. 


578  THE    SAN  MARCOS    RIVER. 

Or  dost  tliou  tell  us  of  a  sterner  tbeiue? 

How  souls  of  heroes,  like  thy  forceful  stream. 
Are  bred  and  nursed  in  silence  and  the  night. 

Fed  from  the  rills  of  secret  pra.ver;  their  mi.ght 
Recruited  iu  grim  strife  with  foes  concealed: 

rntil.  in  fearful  hour,  the  earthquake  shock. 
Of  war.  or  civic  crisis,  cleave  the  rock. 

Then,  startling  foe  and  friend,  they  move  revealed 
In  beauty  terrible,  as  pure  as  strong: 

But  seek  the  ocean  of  eternity 
(Too  soon,  alas!)  to  which  their  names  belong. 

Oh.  flood!  though  earth-born,  thou  dost  seek  the  sky, 
And  this  is  thy  prime  lesson:  On  our  tomb 

Our  resurrection  waits:  our  souls  shall  fly 

To  heaven's  sunlight  from  its  blackest  gloom. 

This  is  the  highest,  this  the  noblest  hope, 
To  publish  which  thy  secret  caverns  ope. 


THE  DEATH  OF  MOSES,  i 

The  .am  stood  flaming  o'er  the  western  deep. 

Dyeiii.u'  its  tri)!tj;s  of  fliuds  and  purple  plain 
With  red  and  liold:  while  up  the  lower  steep 

Of  Neho.  stole  the  slanting-  shade,  to  gain 
His  naked  brow.      Then  c-ame  there  up  to  meet 

The  evening  rays  a  reverend  man.  with  step 
Sedate,  but  grand:  and  sncadfast  eyes'   which  greet 

The  opposing  sun.  mournful,  yet  strong  to  face 
His  tierces.t  beams.     His  loeks  and  beard  are  white 

As  Hermon's  erest.  whieh  props  the  northward  sky: 
Yet  limb  and  feature  move  instim-t  with  might 

Of  manhood,  and  the  soul  that  doth  nor  die. 
On  topmost  height  -  he  pauses,  pedestal  meet 

For  Israel's  Prophet  King,  the  goodliest  man 
Earth  ever  saw.  since  Adam  from  his  seat 

Reviewed  his  Paradise.    Thus,  he  to  scan 
The  scene  stood  long,  then  spake:— 
"The  heritage 

To  Abram  pledged^  1  see:    oh  goodly  land. 
To  which  our  Patriarchs  turned  from  age  to  age 

With  longing  faith,  to  which  my  guiding  hand 
Hath  led  the  ffribes.  as  sires*  their  infant  charge. 

For  forty  weary  years,  through  burning  sands. 
•  Thy  face  how  grand,  thy  boundaries,  how  large! 

Not  like  those  pastures  where  we  wore  the  bonds 
Of  our  disgrace,  parched  with  torrid  heats. 

Or  drenched  3  with  turbid  floods.    But  thoji  dost  drink  6 
From  crystal  founts  that  hold  their  airy  sea'ts 

In  Heaven,  fed  from  old  ocean's  farthest  brink. 
Thy  features  how  harmonious.,  yet  sublime! 

Northward  a  wall  of  green,  whose  summits  pierce 
The  lofty  heavens.  I  see:  but  ere  they  climb 

Into  the  clouds,  put  on  a  robe  diverse. 
Can  earth-born  things  assume  a  garb  so  pure? 

How  do  blacK  scar,  and  tawny  peak  outvie 
The  fairest  tints  of  doudland.  yet  endure. 

I'nmoved  amid  their  change,  the  while  the  sky 
Doth  ki.<.s  the  earth!    'Tis  Hermon  clad^  in  snow. 

Celestial  raiment,  woven  of  frozen  dew. 

1 Appeared  in  Union  Hem'Tiary  Magazine 

IDuet.   34:7.        2  Duet.  :?:27.        3  Gen.  17:8.        4  Duet.    1:31.        5    Duet.    ll:lii 
6  Duet.  11:1],       7Jer.  18:14. 


580  THE   DEATH   OF   MOSES. 

(A  sight  which  swelteriu.y  Egypt  could  not  know) 

In  awful  beauty,  here  mine  eye  doth  view. 
The  Giant  preacheth  to  thee,  Oh,  my  soul! 

Thus  must  God's  robe  of  heavenly  righteousness. 
Blood-washed,  rhiue  earthly  soil  of  sin  enroll. 

Ere  thou  cans't  soar  and  meet  the  skies  in  peace. 
This  side  the  mighty  ramparts'  foot,  behold 

The  upper  lake,  mid  its  encircling  hills. 
Gleams  like  n  mirror,  which  enameted  gold 
Binds  with  its  rim.    Here  Jordan  lights 

His  verdant  vale  with  many  a  sinuous  coil. 
Beyond,  hills  rise  and  fertile  valleys  spread 

And  plains  expand,  teeming^    with  wine  and  oil 
And  plenteous  corn;  whose  glittering  streams  are  fed 

From  springs  perennial,  mounts  like  billowy  waves 
Which  winter's  breath  congealed  e'en  as  they  rose, 

I  see;  within  whose  veins  and  darkling  caves 
Lie  riches,  matching  what  their  fields  enclose. 

Iron  and  ruddy  brass  -     Here,  at  my  feet. 
Sheer  down  two  thousand  cubits,  sullen  sleeps 

The  lake  of  doom,  (hemmed  in  by  borders  meet 
Of  savage  crags  and  thunder  riven  lieap.s) 

Above  the   accursed  cities  of  the  plain. 
Beyond  those  ridges  spreads  an  azure  band. 

Which  shows  us  where  old  ocean  doth  restrain 
The  western  margin  of  the  utmost  land. 

Here  is  thy  hame,  Oh  Israel!  here  thy  rest. 
In  these  green  vales  thy  dwelling  thou  shalt  plant. 

And  on  these  swelling  hills  thy  God  hath  blest. 
Here  shalt  thou  guard  the  holy  covenant 

I  gave  you,  taught  by  future  line  of  seers; 
While  peace  shall  multiply  thy  teeming  seed 

To  fill  the  land,  until  the  promised  tears 
Of  Shiloh  ^  come;  whose  hand  divine  shall  lead 

Your  hosts,  and  wield  at  once  my  kingly  rod. 
The  Prophets  crook,  and  Aaron's  censer  lit 

With  heavenly  flame;  and  shed  that  awful  blood 
(Which  meaner  S:treams  where  e'er  our  altars  sit. 

Dimly  foreshadow,)  that  shall  cleanse  the  world. 
From  yonder  hills,  with  Israel's  temple  crowned. 

Messiah's  flag  of  peace  shall  be  unfurled. 
While  earths  remotest  nations  gather  round 

To  catch  his  gospel  light,  and  learn*   his  ways. 
The  Sun  of  Righteousness  shall,  on  that  hill. 

Hold  his  fixed  zenith,  and  from  thence  his  rays 
With  light  and  holiness  and  peace  shall  fill 

All  gentile  lands,  the  foul  and  bloody  seat 


1    Duet.   11:14-9.        -'  Duet.    8:9.        3   Gen.    49:10.        4    Isaiah  I'Sl-A.   Lsa.   62:10. 


THE   DEATH   OF   MOSES.  581 

Of  the  usurper  Satan.    Israel's  race, 

Nation  of  Pri<?sts5.  shall  lead  their  willing  feet 
And  cleansed  hearts  to  seek  Jehovah's  face.  ' 

All  lands'^   shall  Canaan's  be,  and  this  our  home 

Again  the  Paradise  of  God.    But  I, 
Such  his  decree7!     I  must  not  hope  to  come 

To  that  good  land;  but  look,  and  long,  and  die! 
Would  it  were  mine  (can  mortals'  hearts  suffice 

To  check  the  wish?)  to  lead  my  people  still 
In  this,  the  crisis  of  their  great  emprise 

To  prosperous  ends,  and  so  my  charge  fulfil. 
Across  the  .stream,  yon  cityi    of  the  Palms 

Pollutes  its  goodly  seat  with  noisome  sin. 
I  hear  its  trumpets  blow  their  loud  alarms; 

Its  saucy  warriors  with  defiant  din 
Insult  the  air,  and  crowd  the  hither  wall 

Like  moiling  ants;  the  blazonrj-  of  hell, 
Inscribed  on  streamers,  flags,  and  pennons  tall. 

Likeness  of  Molock,  Ashtaroth  and  Belle, 
And  Dagon,  Scaly  God,  affronts  the  skies. 

Thrusting  incarnate  fiends,  who  personate 
Murder  and  brutisli  lust,  blaspheming  lies. 

And  rites  obscene,  into  the  holy  state 
Of  our  Jehovah.    L  a  dying  man. 

Uenounct?  your  doom  of  death.    Ea^'th  could  nut  beat- 
The  sins  of  Sodom  longer,  which  out-ran 

God's  longest  patience — yours  beyond  compare 
Exceed  your  fathers'.    See  their  ghastly  tomb 

Beneath  you  bitter  waves,  whose  funeral  stroke 
Measures  the  tread  of  your  approacliing  doom. 

Fain  would  I  live  to  see  those  ramparts  broke; 
To  head  those  martial  hosts  I  taught  to  tame 

The  rage  of  Sihou  and  of  Bashan's  king. 
Jehovah'sS   banner,  folds  of  cloiul  and  flame. 

Should  be  the  topmost  sky  their  terrors  fling. 
My  great  Lieutenant!  and  my  dog5  of  war. 

Jephunneh's  stalwart  son,  would  I  unlash. 
My  trumpets'  summons,  Israel's  fierce  hurrah. 

And  chai'ge  resis,tless,  should  these  bulwarks  dasli 
Like  flim.s.y  shreds  away;  whose  wrecks  should  be 

Defiled  graves  forever  for  God's  foes. 
Or  if  such  moments  must  not  come  to  me. 

In  which  the  joy  of  battle  overflows 
The  hero's  spirit,  there  were  calm  delights 

.5  Exod.  19:6.        «i  Ps    7:2:11.        7  Duet    ;^:23-:2il.  Num.  20:8-12. 

1  Joshua  6:1.        2  Gen.  18:20.  oh.  lit:24.        3  E.xod.  13:21.  Exod.  17:15.        4   Duet. 
34:9.        .5  Caleb  means  do^. 


582  THE   DEATH   OF   MOSES. 

For  which  I  yearned.    I  hoped  to  see  the  tribes, 
Seated  in  prosperous  peace  with  oMered  rights 

In  this  good  hind,  where  holy  priests  and  scribes, 
Nut  Captains  stern,  should  teach  the  milder  ways 

Of  love  and  faith;  and  gentle  evening  Psalms 
Instead  of  trumpet's  blare  should  close  the  days. 

Swelled  by  sweet  mothers  sitting  neath  their  palms. 
And  children*'  voices  soft.    I  thought  to  share 

The  sacred  rapture  of  that  final  feast. 
When  all  our  hosts,  purged  from  stains  of  war. 

Shall  to  The  altar  come  with  grateful  breast 
In  long  procession,  while  the  silvery  note 

Of  Levites  horns,  and  choirs  of  chanting  priests 
Make  the  high  echoes  of  our  anthem  float 

From  earth  to  Heavens  own  arch;  and  smoking  beasts 
Of  holocaust  and  incense  pure  shall  raise 

Their  cloudy  columns,  fragrant  with  our  thanks. 
To  speak  to  God  a  ransomed  nations  praist-. 

When  I  had  led  my  people's  jtibilee. 
Should  come  my  rest,  perpetual  Sabbath  rest. 

With  brain  and  heart,  and  we.ny  members  free 
From  those  hard  toils  whicli  had  my  life  oppressed. 

The  kiugi  in  Jeshurun  no  more,  but  only  one 
Among  my  equal  brethren,  should  I  dwell 

In  my  own  modest'home,  my  like-work  done; 
And  to  my  children's  children  daily  tell 

God's  works  and  laws;  until,  as  yonder  sun. 
Whos.?  nether  limb  e'en  now  doth  touch  the  deep. 

His  toilsome  race  of  power  and  splendor  run. 
Sinks  in  his  azure  bed  to  quiet  sleep 

Amid  serenest  lights;  thtis  shotild  I  seek 
The  grave,  my  couch  of  calm  and  glarious  rest. 

But  why  this  earth-born  wish,  as  vain  as  weak! 
Against  that  fixed  decree,  that  stern  arrest 

Of  hoi>e  and  life"?    I  must  not  cross  this  flood. 
Nor  share  those  joys,  debarred  by  my  offense. 

Once  small  appearing;  till  thy  chastening  rod, 
Oh  Father,  taught  me.  and  the  clearer  sense 
•     My  conscience  gains  from  heaven's  approaching  light. 
I  bow  my  guilty  head;  for  thou  hadst  placed 

My  state  so  high,  no  trespass  could  be  slight 
Which  I  might  work,  nor  folly,  which  disgraced 

Thy  power,  deputed  to  my  creature  hand. 
Just  is  my  sentence,  black  my  sin  with  pride 
And  heat-   forgetful  of  thy  strict  command. 
So  thy  sole  glory  fam  would  I  divide 


1  Duet.  33:5.        2  Num.  20:10. 


THE   DEATH    OF   MOSRP.  TlcSH 

Betwixt  myself  and  tlioo.    Oh  wish  profane! 
As  though  thy  rod  of  power  were  mine  to  wield. 

Blessed  be  God!  'tis  not  a  wrathful'  blow 
Which  smites  my  sin,  but  those  soft  strokes  that  yield 
Medicinal  cure:    And  that  blest  stream  which  tlows 

Along  the  ages  from  his  smitten  rock,3 
Pretigured  by  the  meaner  blood  we  draw 

From  dying  substitutes  of  herd  or  flock. 
Hath  washed  nie  white  from  guilt  of  broken  law. 

Thou  chastening,  pitying  (Jod.  I  bow  to  thee 
In  peace  supreme,  my  fond  desire  recall 

From  earth  and  time,  to  find  in  Heaven  and  thee 
My  home,  my  land,  my  church,  my  all  in  all! 

Now  earth,  and  sea,  and  sky,  and  sun,  farewell! 
I  look  my  last,  nor  would  tlie  look  renew. 

A  fairer  scene  tlian  Canaan  casts  its  spell 
On  my  enraptured  spirit.    To  my  view 

A  piirer  radiance  rises,  at  whose  beams 
Yon  sinking  orb  looks  dull.    I  see  from  whence 

This  flood  ineffable  of  glory  streams, 
Not  by  corporeal  eyes,  but  inner  sense 

Of  spiritual  sight,  which  to  my  soul  reveals. 
The  Heavenly  gates,  whiter  than  Hermon's  snow. 

And  loftier  than  his  peaks.    And  from  them  peals 
Celestial  harmony,  whose  accents  flow 

In  mingled  strains,  so  soft,  so  high,  so  clear. 
Our  Sanctuary's  psalms  discordant  sound. 

Earth,  thou  are  nauiglit.^     My  I'avished  lie.nt  and  ear 
Forget  thy  charms.    T'pun  this  verdant  ground 

I  lay  me  down,  weak  with  excess  of  bliss. 
To  drink  the  glory  in  with  steady  gaze. 

The  vision  brigliter  glows.    What  trance  is  this, 
Which  thus  exliausts  my  soul  with  glad  amaze? 

I  feel  the  fanning  wings  of  Cherubim, 
I  bear  their  voices  whisper:    •'Bi'other,  couie!" 

Now  death  -  tliuu  vaniiuished  foe.  lead  me  to  Him 
Whose  bosom  is  my  everlasting  home. 
Mose.s  dies      Satiin  iippears  rising  from  a  darli  ravine  to  seizes  his  body,   but 
Michael  witli  a  troop  of  Angels  repulses  him   with  majestic   and  grave  rebul^e; 
whereupon  his  company  bear  away  the  corpse  to  its  burial.4  chanting  a  hymn  to 
Messiah. 

3  1  Cor.  10:4. 

1  Ps.  73::25-26.        2  Duet.  :i4:h.        ;!  Ep   of  Jude  v.  ',).        i  Duet.  34:6. 


THE  CHRISTIAN  WOMANS  DROWNING  HYMN. 

A  MONODY. 

(A  Christ i:iu  lady  aud  organist,  weut  .Inly.  1886.  with,  and  at  the 
request  of  her  sister,  for  a  few  days"  excursion  to  Indianola.  They 
arrived  the  day  before  the  great  night  storm  and  tidal  wave,  which 
submerged  the  town.  Both  the  ladies  and  children,  after  hours  of 
fearful  suspense,  were  drowned,  the  house  where  they  sought  refuge 
being  broken  to  pieces  in  the  waves.  A  survivor  stated  that  the  or- 
ganist spent  much  of  the  interval  in  most  moving  prayer.  Their  re- 
mains were  recovered  on  the  subsidence  of  the  tempest,  and  interred 
at  their  homes.,  amidst  universally  solemn  and  tender  sympathy. 

The  following  verses  are  imagined,  as  expressing  the  emotions  of 
the  Christian  wife,  sister  and  mother,  during  her  long  struggle  with 
the  waters:) 

Sister,  awake!  Oh  list!  there  is  a  change: 

The  moon,  whose  flood  of  light,  at  eventide 
Made  of  the  placid  sea  an  ans-wering  range 

Of  star-lit  sky,  the  upper  heavens  beside; 
Sheds  now  its  fitful  gleams  through  angry  rifts. 

The  fanning  breezes  that  caressed  our  locks 
Are  swollen  to  a  gale,  on  which  there  drifts 

The  s.hriek  of  drowning  men;  and  sullen  shocks 
Of  waves,  like  trampling  hosts,  as.sault  the  groujid— 

Oh  hear  beneath  the  hollow,  deep  sea-moan 
Sob  of  unrest  eternal!    where  doth  sound 

The  smothered  agony,  and  parting  groan 
Of  all  the  dead  that  ocean's  caverns  keep. 

Our  hearts,  oh!  sister,  yesterday  were  bright 
As  was  the  sun-lit  surface  of  the  deep: 

Our  mirth  was  like  its  ripples  tipped  with  light  — 
AYe  thought  but  in  this  summer-sea  to  lave. 

Our  members  fevered  by  the  dog-star's  ray. 
And  yet,  beneath  our  laughter's  rippling  wave 

My  spirit  heard  a  moan,  which  seemed  to  say 
In  tone  half-felt,  unreasoning;  beware! 

Thou  art  the  type,  thou  beauteous,  treacherous  sea 
Of  mortals'  lives,  whose  sunny  joys  show  fair 

But  to  prelude  the  the  storm. 
I  Come,  let  us  flee! 

See  these  intrusive  surges,  each  more  nigh 

Thau  its  audacious  fellow!  Sister,  come! 


BAPTISMAL   HYMN.  585 

Too  late,  thou  sayestV  'Ere  now  the  breakers  fly, 

Crowned  with  crashing  wrecks  and  seething  foam, 
Across  that  narrow  isthmus,  where  alone 

Our  path  to  safety  lay.    Remorseless  deep. 
Thy  cunning,  faithless  work,  thou  hast  well  done. 

We  are  thy  helpless  prey,  which  thou  wilt  keep 
Fast  caught  in  thine  embrace,  to  wait  the  death 

Thy  fierce  yet  stealthy  tread  will  bring.    Oh  fate 
So  sudden,  unforeseen!  to  end  our  breath 

In  our  strong  prime!  To  set  so  short  a  date, 
One  eve.  betwixt  our  joy  and  our  despair! 

Insidious  foe:  kuewest  thou  that  manly  breast. 
Those  nervous,  sheltering  arms  are  absent  far. 

Which  even  thy  mighty  rage  would  dare  contest 
For  her  he  loved?    Against  two  women  weak. 

Two  frightened  babes,  inexorable  king, 
Resounds  thy  diapason  dread,  the  shriek 

Of  wailing  beasts,  that  bear  upon  their  wings 
The  hissing  spray,  and  thunder  of  thy  hosts 

To  drown  our  puny  cry. 

So  with  thy  shout. 
From  far-off  tropic  deeps  and  Carib-coasts 

Thy  huge  reserve  of  floods  thou  callest  out 
To  whelm  these  helpless  lives.    Our  bruised  limbs 

And  garments  rent  are  tossed  like  leaves  that  float 
On  autumn  blasts;  while  ever  nearer  climbs 

Thy  cruel,  lapping  wave,  to  clutch  our  throat. 
Yea.  thou  art  mighty  in  thy  rage,  oh  sea! 

Thou,  atheist  Titan,  wouldst  assault  the  sky 
And  fain  wouldst  bid  the  frighted  stars  to  flee 

From  thy  vast  tumult!  But  they  do  not  fly! 
Between  the  storm-rent  clouds  I  see  their  beams. 

Slender  but  steadfast,  and  serene  as  clear, 
Disdam  thy  brutal  wrath:  and  with  them  streams 

That  still,  small  voice  believing  spirits  hear; 
Soft,  but  more  potent  than  thy  deaf'ning  roar. 

It  is  thy  Master's  voice,  insurgent  deep. 
Who  sits  above  those  stars,  who  shuts  the  door. 

Or  opens  to  the  storm,  who  bids  thee  keep 
Thy  subject  bounds,  and  measures  all  thy  flood 

In  his  mere  palm;  when  he  bids.  "Peace;  be  still:" 
Thy  waves  shall  crouch  like  beasts,  beneath  his  rod. 

Thou  tossest  wide  thy  billows'  hands  to  kill. 
The  everlasting  arms  enfold  and  keep 

My  better  life;  Jehovah,  he  who  guides 
Yon  starry  worlds,  as  shepherds  lead  their  sheep. 

Inspires  my  psalm  of  faith,  above  the  tides 
Of  thy  vain  tumult,  ringing  high  and  clear,  ' 


586  BAPTISMAL    HYMN. 

Belov'il  on  eartli.  f;irewelll  ()li  beaveuly  spouse 
I  oomel  tliy  voice  dorb  cast  out  all  my  fear 

And  charms  my  soul  aloft.    Thy  will  allows 
To  the  devourer,  naught  but  this  poor  clay. 

Earth-born  like  it.    Then,  take  it.  ravenous  seal 
Thy  futile  s-poil;  thou  hast  an  empty  prey. 

Even  this  for  a  day— nor  shall  it  be 
The  food  of  thy  sea  monsters,  nor  be  drawn 

To  thy  dark  caverns.    This  my  soul  foresees. 
Grown  prescient  in  the  liiiht  of  heaven's  near  dawn. 

Whilst  thou  shalr  cower  at  my  Lord's  decrees 
Back  to  thy  kennels,  this  poor  frame  shall  lie 

Embalmed  In  loving  tears,  and  take  its  rest 
Beneath  the  tiowers  and  sheltering  groves,  hard  by 

The  peaceful  homes  of  men:  and  temples  blest 
Of  Christ:  until  his  resurrection-morn 

And  that  new  wor:,!.  when  "Seas  shall  be  no  more. 
Thus,  from  thy  stormiest  crest,  with  holy  scorn. 

I  mount  to  peaceful  mansions,  where  thy  roar 
No  more  shall  reach,  than  to  yun  starry  orbs. 


A  SONNET  TO  LEE. 

Israel  oue  David,  Arlieus  oue  IVrieles. 
Thebes  one  Epaminordas  could  produce. 
Thy  State,  O,  Lee,  of  greatness,  more  profuse, 
Nurtured  two  Washingtous  upon  her  knees; 
The  tirst  to  crown  on  earth  his  God  did  please; 
But  thy  reward  was  set  thee  in  the  skies. 
Sterner  thy  fate  than  Jackson's;  him  to  I'ise 
And  fee:  no  fall,  appointed  Heaven's  decrees. 
From  thy  high  noon  thou  turnedst  to  the  west. 
By  clouds  infolded,  thunderous  and  dark. 
Which  yet.  reluctant,  spread  around  thy  rest. 
Purple  and  golden  glories,  prescient  mark 
Of  that  eternal  radiance  which  hath  blest 
Thy  soul,  beyond  our  sun's  inferior  arc. 


GENERAL  T.  J.  JACKSON. 

AN    ELEGY,    1887. 

Six  days  our  hearts  ftood  still  with  keen  snspi'usi': 

Our  champion  lay  sore  smitten  of  God's  hand. 

The  seventh,  our  hope  was  slain,  for  he  was  deadi 

Our  prayers  were  vain;  and  now  our  palsied  sense 

Knows  not  our  grief  to  utter.    Weep.  O  land! 

Who  shall  inspire  thy  threnody,  and  wed 

Thy  wails  to  numbers  mournful  as  thy  breast? 

Invoke  no  pagan  Muse,  whose  fabled  sigh 

And  painted  tear  but  mimic  woe  sincere. 

Come  rather,  thou,  the  Spirit  who  dost  rest 

In  truth's,  eternal  seat;  it  was  thine  eye 

Illumined  him  we  mourn:  and  thy  pure  fear 

His  greatness  was.    Thee  then,  we  call  to  teach 

Our  pain  tit  voice,  who  didst  thy  seer's  lament 

Attune  to  chant  meet  dirge  for  Ziou's  fall. 

"Oh  that  our  heads  were  watersi"    Then  might  reach 

Our  floods  of  tears  to  the  full  argument 

Of  our  calamity,  as  we  recall. 

In  contrast  black,  our  hero's  glorious  morn 

With  this  drear  night  that  clouds  it  at  midday. 

But  twice  twelve  moons  before.  A'irginia  said: 

"Hither  my  sons  to  meet  the  invaders'  scorn  I 

They  deem  we  withered  in  obscure  decay. 

My  bosom  dry  of  that  proud  milk  that  fed 

My  Washingtons  and  Henrys.    O'er  my  head 

They  shake  the  loathed  scourge,  as  though  to  sway 

To  slavery  this  soul  to  freedom  born." 

Then  of  her- myriads,  rallying  to  her  cry. 

Our  mother's  instinct  owned  him  foremost  son. 

Modest  as  prompt,  with  spirit  trained  to  might 

In  secret  prayer,  with  Bayard's  chivalry 

Of  faith  begotten;  with  a  valor  won 

From  God's  own  strength  and  truth's  serenest  light. 

She  gave  her  banner  to  his.  stainless  hand. 

Thence,  like  the  day-star  blazed  he  in  her  front: 

His  sweep,  the  wind's,  his  stroke  the  knell  of  fate 

To  them  who  durst  pollute  her  sacred  land. 

Onward  and  upward,  through  the  war-cloud's  brunt. 

He  soared  with  steady  wing,  as  though  to'  instate 


GENERAL   T.    J.    JACKSON.  ^89 

Her  flag  in  freedom's  peaceful  citadel. 

TJaen,  midst  his  loftiest  fliglit,  our  eagle  fell! 

That  we  were  fall'n  with  him  we  learned  too  late. 

Yea,  bow,  O  Lee,  in  grief  that  kingly  front 

To  which  all  others  bent;  and  weep  thou  drops 

Such  as  were  shed  by  Israel's  warrior  king. 

For  Jonathan  and  Saul  the  highty  shiiu. 

For  now  from  thy  right  side  disaster  lops 

The  arm  which  wont  thy  victories  to  bring; 

And  could  thy  grandest  purposes  explain 

In  grander  deeds.    Yea,  weep  thou  hoary  chief! 

For  with  his  parting  soul  success  hath  flown. 

To  come  no  more.    Not  that  thy  worth  is  less, 

Or  patriot- will  to  win  thy  land  relief; 

Nor  all  thy  heroes  with  their  pattern  gone. 

Still  shall  ye  toil  and  die;  but  full  success 

No  more  shall  crown  these  toils,  stanch  as  his  own. 

Still  shall  your  gallant  struggles  honor  save, 

Losing  all  el.se.    And  weep,  ye  rugged  hosts. 

Who  laughed  in  battle's  dead-lock:  He  is  gone 

Whose  shout  worth  fresh  battalions:  "On  ye  brave!" 

Inspired  your  charge.    Weep  too,  ye  martial  ghosts, 

Who,  parting  from  your  bleeding  flesh,  were  glad 

That  he  still  battles  to  avenge  your  fall. 

For  none  remain  that  vengeance  to  demand, 

Until  the  heavenly  court's  decree  be  had. 

But  chiefest  thou,  Virginia,  round  thee  call 

Thy  mourning  women;  drape  thy  widowed  laud 

In  blackest  weeds,  and  let  thy  eyes  be  wells 

Of  bitter  waters.    Yea,  and  thou  didst  mourn! 

Twice  didst  thou  bury  him;  thy  maids  with  flowers. 

Thy  elders  with  his  mother-earth.    Thy  bells 

With  dismal  stroke  and  cannons'  bellowing  groan 

Measured  thy  funeral  step,  as  all  thy  powers 

L"nrolled  their  gloomy  ranks. 

But  hadst  thou  seen  with  his  presaging  eye. 

How  much  was  lost  with  him;  hadst  broke  the  seal 

Of  fate  for  thy  succeeding  years,  and  read 

As  he  had  read,  that  thy  best  sons  should  die. 

Yet  win  no  rescue  for  the  commonweal 

By  their  rich  blood,  as  vain,  as  freely  shed: 

How  conquerors,  ruthless  in  their  pride  of  power. 

Should  trample  thy  fair  neck,  whose  queenly  foot 

Found  rightful  place  upon  the  oppressor's  liead: 

Cunning  and  malice  rule  the  dismal  hour 

Of  thine  eclipse,  and  fraud  and  force  uproot 

Each  right  implanted  by  thy  fathers  dead: 

How  doltish  serfs  and  alien  thieves  should  foul 


590  GENERAL    T.    J.    JACKSON. 

Thy  seats  of  power,  once  by  thy  sages  graced; 
While  all  thy  noblest,  fairest,  wisest  sank 
In  want  obscure,  hounded  by  slanderous  howl: 
And  worst,  how  some,  thy  sons,  whom  thou  hadsr  pl.KM d 
'Neath  thy  free  banner,  in  the  honored  rank 
Of  thy  defenders,  wooed  by  filthy  greed. 
Should  aid.  Oh  shame!  their  mother's  chains  to  draw: 
Hadst  thou  seen  this  as  thy  dead  champion  saw: 
(And  that  it  might  not  be  was  fain  to  bleed) 
Then  hadst  thou  wept,  not  tears  of  brine,  but  blood! 
Yea,  woeful  mother,  weep!    There  is  no  herb. 
Euphrasy,  rue,  nor  balsam,  that  can  buy 
Health  for  thy  deadly  hurt;  this  saw  thy  Lee: 
Hence  in  the  battle's  edge  the  end  superb 
Of  those  who  for,  and  with  their  country  die. 
He  sought,  but  could  not  find;  thus  God's  decree. 
So  as  he  must  not  fall,  nor  could  endure 
To  see  the  glories  bought  with  fathers'  blood 
So  foully  ravaged,  lost  beyond  recall, 
His  mighty  heart-strings  brake,  his  spirit  pure 
AVeut  up  where  wrongs  no  more  oppress  the  good. 
Lift  up  thy  wail.  Virginia;  thy  stone  wall 
Thy  tower  of  strength  is  prostrate.    Mothers,  weep: 
Who  for  your  country  gave  your  bodies'  fruit. 
Dearer  than  life;  yet  willing  their  dear  blood 
Should  buy  her  dearer  freedom.    Widows,  weep: 
And  ye.  unwedded  maidens,  wan  and  mute. 
(Tit  mates  for  heroes)  who  for  country's  good 
Could  nuptial  jo.\-s  forego,  and  think  her  weal 
Full  recompense  for  all  your  widowed  lives: 
For  HE  IS  lead:  your  priceless  price  is  spent. 
And  no  deliverance  bought.    Ah!  harshest  deal 
Of  sightless  fortune!  this  the  thought  that  rives- 
Your  aching  hearts.    Oh  Gotl,  why  hast  thou  sent 
Such  mockery  of  hope"?    Why  bid  arise 
Such  champion  of  our  cause,  and  let  him  bring 
The  boon  so  near  our  grasp,  and  then  withdraw 
Thy  gift,  his  work  unfinished,  to  thy  s.kies? 
Forgive  the  faithless  question.  Sovereign  King. 
We  read  its  answer  with  repentant  awe. 
In  our  own  sin.    He  was  thine  overture; 
Thy  merciful  proposal  to  us.  writ 
In  characters  more  clear  than  prophet's  word. 
And  more  divine,  in  life  and  deed  too  pure 
For  earth-born  virtue;  such  as  could  befit 
No  source  but  Heaven.    And  l)y  his  righteous  sword. 
Great  rescue  and  defense  didst  thou  bestow. 
Plucked  from  the  jaws  of  death  and  i)eril  dread 


GENEKAI.     r.    J     JACK80X.  591 

Not  ouc-e.  but  oft;  wherein  this  meaning  shone: 

"Woiikl  ye  be  free  and  great?    Your  giant  foe 

Wouhl  ye  o'erthrow.  and  crush  his  ravenous  head? 

Be  what  your  Joshua  is:  as  he  hath  done 
Do  ye.    Like  unto  his,  be  all  your  ends 

Your  God's,  your  country's  and  the  trutlfs:  your  ease 

Denied  for  duty,  and  your  valor  taught 

Of  my  true  fear.    This  way  your  (Jnd  conmienils: 

Will  ye  walk  in  it  to  a  glorious  peace? 

Fair  overture  and  true!    The  State  inwrouglit 

With  this  man's  virtues,  all  her  sons  like  liim. 

Had  been  unconquerable,  absolute. 

Achilles  of  the  nations,  panoplied 

Not  by  the  baptism  of  the  infernal  stream. 

Lucre  and  cunning  and  the  strength  of  brute 

Conferring:  but  with  holy  power  supplied 

From  that  clear  flood,  that  watereth  the  street 

Of  God's  eternal  city'  impregnable. 

So  ours,  fenced  by  this  righteousness,  had  stood 

'Gainst  Satan's  world.    On  what  wise  did  we  meet 

God's  overture?.  Our  purpose  mutable 

Postponed  His  call:  we  fain  would  have  the  good 

And  yet  neglect  its  source;  would  seize  the  crown. 

Yet  slight  the  appointed  race.    So  sluggish  peace 

And  hope  deceitful  lure  the  thoughtless  brood 

Not  worth  the  prize;  who  draw  the  angry  frown 

Of  God,  and  His  avenging  hand  release. 

But  thus  not  all.    Thus  spake  the  goodlier  host: 

"Yea  Lord,  we  will  be  free,  and  on  thy  terms!" 

And  these  God's  model  followed  where  he  went. 

To  bloody  graves;  or  else,  to  mourn  their  lost 

And  chant  their  dirge,  remain.    Our  sin  contirms 

The  just  decree.    "Thy  visitation  sent 

In  mercy's  chosen  day  thou  knewest  not 

O  land!    But  in  thy  wealth  hebete  and  gross. 

Thou  wouldest  not  read  aright  God's  ofEere<l  gift." 

That  question  solved,  before  disaster  blot 

The  scutcheon  of  God's  knight,  or  honor's  loss: 

Up  to  his  rest  doth  he  his  servant  lift: 

His  task  is  done;  the  woe  he  must  not  feel. 

Boast  not  upon  his  fall,  ye  haughty  foes: 

Ye  slew  him  not.    Your  stores  no  missile  held 

To  touch  that  sacred  life.    No  bolt,  nor  steel 

Forged  for  your  greed  or  malice  could  unclose 

The  links  of  heavenly  mail  the  truth  did  wi-Id 

Across  that  breast.    The'  intent  was  yours,  and  guilt: 

But  impotent  as  foul.    God's  was  the  deed. 

Wherefore,  as  instruments  He  chose  the  friends 


592  GENERAL   T.    J.    JACKSON. 

Who  for  this  life  would  joyfully  have  spilt 
Their  dearest  blood;  unwitting  as.  the  steed 
Which  bore  him,  or  the  lightning's  bolt  which  rends 
The  clouds  to  minister  Jehovah's  will. 

For  not  of  wrath,  but  love  the  stroke  was  pleflge. 
It  took  God's  favorite  from  the  coming  doom. 
Whose  baleful  shade,  than  Artie  night  more  chill. 
On  his  prophetic  soul  now  cast  its  edge. 
Prognostic  of  the  blacker,  coming  gloom 
Of  freedom  lost.    Thereat  his  swelling  soul. 
Spurning  the  shameful  bonds  with  grand  disdnin. 
Burst  from  the  fetters  of  his  earthly  frame. 
And  soared  forever  free.    Asunder  roll 
The'  eternal  gates;  while  from  their  glittering  fnne 
The  spirits  troop,  his  brotherhood  to  claim. 
Who  free  from  chains  of  bondage  lived,  or  died. 
But  we,  alas  I  unworthy  of  his  fate. 
Live  on  to  wear  the  chain,  and  watch  his  dus.t 
By  venal  and  contemptuous  tongues  belied; 
Of  manhood  scarce  retaining  such  poor  state 
As  dares  to  guard  aright  our  funeral  trust. 
For  on  the  s.oil  baptized  by  his  blood. 
His  comrades  raise  no  monumental  stone 
To  make  his  name  endure.    The  lowly  grave. 
That  keeps  what  earth  reserves  of  him,  had  stood 
Unmarked,  but  that  a  weeping  woman,  lone 
And  widowed,  still  than  bearded  men  more  brave. 
Planted  her  modest  shaft;  and  maiden's  hands 
Weekly  bedeck  his  sod  with  wreathed  flowers. 
Soon  withered,  like  the  cause  he  loved  so  well. 
Thus  lowly  lie.  in  this  dishonored  land 

Valor  and  truth  and  those  imperial  powers 
Of  genius  -.'onsecrate  (in  Heaven  they  dwell 

In  state  supernal!)  while  the  sordid  dust 
Of  coarse  oppressors,  great  but  in  their  crime. 
Greedy  of  gold  and  blood,  their  people's  shame. 
Usurps  the  honor  sacred  to  the  just, 
An-d  flouts  the  heavens  with  braggart  shaft  sulilime: 
While  mercenary  mobs  resound  their  name, 

And  fawning  priests,  worst  traitors  to  Christ's  word. 
Teach  them  to  cry:  "Success,  thou  art  divine!" 
"Be  thou  our  God,  for  thou  dost  .sate  our  lust." 
Thou  sittest  judge  of  all.  O  righteous  Lord! 
Thou  wilt  arise  and  let  Thy  judgments  shine. 
And  they  shall  clear  the  memories  of  the  just. 
Our  grievance  we  revoke;  thou,  mighty  shade. 
Lackest  no  mausoleum,  while  true  hearts. 
And  such  there  are,  enshrine  thy  memory. 
These  nobler  temples  of  thy  fame,  noi  made 


GENERAL   T.   J,    JACKSON.  593 

By  earthly  hands,  nor  graven  by  men's  arts. 
Shall  keep  thy  glory!    And  these  mountains  free, 
Eternal  watchmen  round  thy  modest  tomb. 
They  are  tit  sentinels;  their  soaring  peaks 
Point  to  the  skies  which  thou  inhabitest: 
Steadfast  like  thee,  wheths^"  the  winter's  gloom 
Change  them  to  iron,  or  Aurora's  streaks 
Emblazon  tliem  like  mansions  of  the  blest; 
Or  glittering  snows  enwrap  their  giant  forms. 
White  as  thy  heavenly  robe,  so  earth  meets  sky. 
And  mortal  ken  can  scarce  discern  their  bound; 
These  keep  their  faithful  ward  through  calms  and  storms 
Nor  cease  to  speak  thy  name,  till  time  shall  die 
And  thy  great  Captain's  final  trumpet  sound. 


ANNIHILATION. 

They  boast  that  "death  is  au  eterual  sleep." 

Where,  if  no  morniug  e'er  restores  delight. 
At  least,  no  mourner  ever  wakes  to  weep— 

The  simile  is  false;  the  endless  night 
That  has  no  dawn,  brings  not  the  soul  to  rest: 

But  to  despair:    For  he  who  rests  awakes 
To  conscious  ease  that  satisfies  his  quest 

For  recompense  of  pain— The  life  that  makes 
A  woeful  ending  is  a  woeful  life. 

He  is  the  victor  who  retains  the  held 
When  battle  ends:  And  thus  the  closing  strife 

Of  earth-born  anguish,  if  the  future  yield 
No  compensation,  must  forever  cast 

Its  blackness  backward  on  the  wretch's  fate. 
Let  nature  si)eak,  whose  craving,  deep  and  vast 

Yearns  for  existence,  be  our  conscious  state 
Or  sweet  or  bitter;  like  the  seeing  eye 

Insatiable  of  light,  or  ear  of  sound. 
Desire  instinct,  inwrought  of  God  most  high 

Not  rule  of  interest  astutely  found 
By  after  calculation,  as  is  taught 

Of  our  first  father's  sleep  in  Paradise 
His  drowsed  sense,  untroubled,  though  he  thought. 

He  then  to  nothing  wlience  he  took  his  rise 
Was  lapsing  swift.    It  is  the  voice  divine 

Speaking  within  us,  which  instructs  our  wish 
For  endless  being.    Else  why  is  it  mine 

Unlike  the  unreasoning  bird  or  beast  or  fish. 
To  recollect  the  past;  to  anticipate; 

To  fear  the  future  woe;  to  hope  the  goodV 
Accursed  was  the  gift  of  prescient  thought 

That  raised  our  empty  pride  above  the  brood 
Of  brutish  things;  for  it  a  lie  hath  taught. 

The  hind  can  crop  the  herb  and  course  the  lawn. 
Or  drink  the  mountain  spring  with  thoughtless  glee, 

Untroubled  by  the  hour  her  dying  fawn 
Cost  her  a  transient  pang;  nor  doth  foresee 

The  hunter's  coming  shaft  that  seeks  her  breast. 
No  memory  brings  past  sorrows,  no  foresight 

Arrays  its  future  terrors  to  molest 
Her  present  joy:    One  sudden  thi-ill  of  fright. 


ANNIHILATION.  595 

One  stroke,  one  death-throe  ends  the  whole  cnreer, 
Simple  and  brief,  but  rounded  in  its  .ioj-. 

Why  should  I  die  like  her  if  I  must  fear. 
Remember,  hope,  desire,  doomed  to  employ 

My  noblest  powers  of  being  to  pursue 
Futility?    Why  mine  to  stretch  the  thought 

To  progress  onward,  and  the  endless  view 
Of  growtli  of  soul  witli  larger  glories  fraught. 

In  widening  vistas  mounting  through  the  realms 
Of  knowledge  boundless?  Why  when  present  love 

With  its  alluring  bliss  the  heart  o'erwhelms. 
Is  it  ordained  our  foresight  still  must  rove 

To  future  days,  that  love  might  fill  like  this 
With  equal  joys,  yet  know  it  must  not  be? 

Why  is  it  reason  will  not.  cannot  cease 
To  frame  that  thought  supreme,  eternity; 

Capacious  of  infinitude  of  good, 
Mocking  the  soul  with  cravings  infinite. 

If  life  must  be  the  span  the  bestial  brood 
Enjoys?    AbhoiTed  span!    that  art  but  meet 

To  shew  us  Being's  woes,  and  then  its  loss 
Irreparable.    Cursed  be  the  boon 

Of  such  existence,  cheating  with  its  dross 
The  golden  hopes  it  sancticneth,  as  soon 
As  they  begin  to  glow— The  better  lot 

Is  given  the  brute,  who  drinks  the  trivial  cup 

Of  life,  and  ends,  forgetting  and  forgot. 
If  death  ends  all.  a  blaekf^r  thought  looms  up: 

Then  all  we  love  must  perish  when  they  die; 
We  part  forever,  and  the  love  that  blest 

Our  hearts  remains  a  wound  that  shall  not  dry 
Its  bitter  stream  till  Nothingness  arrest 

Our  woe  and  being  by  one  common  blow. 
Love  is  immortal:  all  things  else  may  die; 

The  forest  kings  decay,  the  ceaseless  flow 
Of  ancient  rivers,  proudly  sweeping  by 

Long  buried  cities,  wane,  the  steadfast  heads 
Of  everlasting  mountains  waste  and  stoop. 

Tlie  hoary  seas  desert  their  sunless  beds; 
This  ordered  frame  may  backward  droop 

To  endless  chaos-— But  the  eye 
That  shines  with  love's  self-sacrificing  light 

Outlasts  the  beams  which  from  Arcturus  fly. 
Orion  or  Bootes:  it  is  bright 

With  God's  own  rays.    He  is  the  sun  of  love 
And  they  the  orbs  that  round  the  centre  roll 

Reflecting  him,  as  they  forever  move 
In  circles  shaped  by  his  supreme  control. 

He  is  eternal;  so  the  gift  divine! 


596  ANNIHILATION. 

Is  all  we  love  tlieu,  mortal?    Do  the  flres 
Of  geuius,  klnaled  from  the  heavenly  shriue 
Of  truth  and  beauty,  perish,  as  expires 

The  gilded  butterfly  or  tinted  rose? 
Or  shall  the  Sage's  vision,  that  can  pierce 

Through  Nature's  secrets,  make  the  sea  disclose 
His  deep  abyss,  and  ride  his  billows  fierce. 

Can  map  the  planet's  pathway  and  foretell 
Their  sure  returns,  can  bridge  the  flood; 

That  can  the  storm-cloud's  subtile  bolt  expel. 
"Can  look  from  nature  up  to  nature's  God." 

And  in  his  works  can  read  his  deeper  thought; 
Be  quenched  iu  darkness  like  the  rotting  eye 

Of  newt  or  toad?    The  heroism  that  wrought 
A  nation's  disenthralment,  fain  to  die 

For  country's  weal,  and  seek  no  recompens*^ 
But  conscious  right,  the  martyr's  steadfast  faith 

Which  joys  to  die  for  Truth,  and  own  no  sense 
Of  fiery  torments:  mother's  love,  which  hath 

No  thought  of  self,  consummate  effluence 
Of  heaven's  own  virtue;  perish  evermore 

As  utterly  as  hypocrites'  pretense. 
Or  as  the  bubbles  bursting  on  the  shore. 

Or  as  the  glitter  of  the  serpent's  scales 
Decaying  back  to  dust?    'Tis  blasphemy! 

Bethink  ye;  If  this  creed  of  death  prevails 
To  doom  our  spirits  to  mortality. 

It  leaves  no  trace  of  God  on  nature's  page— 
If  man  is  soulless,  then  an  atheist  world 

Is  all  he  knows,  where  senseless  forces  rage 
In  tire,  and  sea.  and  storm,  and  suns  are  hurled 

With  troops  of  waiting  stars,  by  aimless  might, 
Through  voids  immense,  and  blind  mechanic  fate 

Inexorable,  on  its  throne  of  night. 
Sightless  and  pitiless  maintain  its  state 

In  earth  or  heaven  there  is  no  ear  to  hear 
The  sufferer's  prayer;  no  heart  to  feel  his  woe: 

No  hand  to  shield  the  gust,  or  to  repair 
The  foulest  wrong  that  nithless  force  can  do?— 

So  right  eternal  perishes,  and  crime 
Endures  eternal,  scorning  all  repeal.— 

Then  are  this  lower  earth  these  heavens  sublime 
One  vast  machine,  'neath  whose  remorseless  wheel 

The  corn  is  human  hearts,  instinct  of  pain. 
And  joy.  and  hope,  and  fear,  that  writhe  and  bleed. 

Till  ground  to  nothingness.    Oh  piteous  grain! 
Oh  dreadful  engine!  Monster!  that  dost  feed 

Thine  endless  grind  with  countless  precious  lives! 


ANNIHILATION.  597 

Is  such  a  world  our  home?    'Tis  dark  as.  hell! 

Its  joys  but  mock  us.  since  no  joy  survives; 
But  death  and  loss  irreparable  dwell 

Perpetual  masters.  Yet,  one  other  fate 
There  is  more  black— the  eternal  recompen>^ 

Which  conscious  guilt  forewarns  it,  may  await 
Tlie  soul  which  cannot'die.  nor  find  defense 

Against  the  Judge  changeless,  omnipotent— 
Ah!    this  the  thouglit  which  drives  the  coward  hcnrt 

The  desperate  alternative  to  choose 
'Twixt  hell  and  nothingness- A  better  part 

Appears  to  faith— Then  why,  Oh  mortals,  lose 
That  nobler  choice.  Redemptiob?  bought  witli  blood 

Of  God  incarnate,  wrought  by  power  divine. 
The  safe  inheritance  of  perfect  good. 

The  grace  that  s-hall  your  inmost  souls  refine 
From  error,  sin  and  sorrow,  and  J^estow 

The  angels'  life  of  bliss  and  purity. 
Whose  years  are  measured  only  by  the  tiow 

Of  God's  eternity:    The  gift  as  free 
Vj  every  thirsting  soul  as  air  of  heaven! 

AVhy  do  men  turn  from  glories  such  as  these 
To  dreary  niglit  and  death?  and  still  elect 

Infinite  loss  and  naught  o'er  boundless  seas 

Of  joy?    Because,  O  shame!  Their  guilty  fears  detect 
The  treason  and  the  folly  they  have  wrought 

Against  themselves  and  their  best  destiny 

In  serving  sin!  This  infamy  hath  taught 

(And  this  alone)  the  atheist's  grovelling  plea, 
That^  death  may  be  to  them  -eternal  sleep." 


THE  TEXAS  BRIGADE  AT  THE  WILDERNESS. 

(Written  May,  ISOO.i 

It  was  upon  the  sixth  of  May,  five  miles  from  Lee  away. 

Our  corps  amid  the  forest  lay,  before  the  break  of  day. 

Our  limbs  by  the  hard  march  distressed,  close    to    the    ground    wo 

pressed, 
As  by  forgetful  slumber  blest,  we  took  our  dreamless  rest. 
Tho'  now  and  then  the  cannon's  boom  disturbed  the  silent  gloom; 
Our  ears,  locked  up  as  in  the  silent  tomb,  gave  to  the  sound    small 

room; 
But  what  is  this  bids  sleep  depart;  and  makes  each  soldier  start. 
The  hot  l)lood  throbbing  at  his  heart,  with  sense  and  mind  alert V 
The  long  roll  beat!    "Fall  in!"  they  cry;  "Fall  in,  the  minutes  tiyi" 
For  these  five  miles  we  must  pass  by  our  succor  to  supply. 
The  teeming  foes  our  friends    confront,    whose    weary    swords    .u;' 

blunt 
So  we  are  needed  at  the  front  to  bear  the  battle's  brunt. 
Our  rest  was  short;  our  food  was  none;  but  our  fatigue  was  gone; 
Our  leader  calls  and  we  press  on,  as  eager  racers  run. 
The  stars  above,  so  calm  and  bright,  shed  down  their  solemn  light 
Through  forest  leaves  with  dews  bedight.    Over  the  waning  uiglit 
Aurora  sprtads  her  rosy  fire.    The  timid  birds  aspire 
To  tune  their  thankful,  morning  choir.    But  hark!  the  contrast  dire. 
The  cannon's  roar  and  sulphurous  flash,  and  bloody  weapons  clash; 
The  thud  of  trampling,  panting  steeds,    the    wounded    wretch    wlio 

bleeds. 
Bewailing  pangs  which  no  one  heeds,  amidst  all  deadly  deeds! 
And  now  the  sun  confronts  our  eyes,  lurid  with  battles'  dyes; 
Beneath,  the  tangled  forest  lies,  whence  fumes  of  tophet  rise. 
Thereat  we  strain  our  thews  anew,  we  pierce  the  tumult  through; 
Alas!  the  sight  that  meets  our  view:  who  stand  and  fight  are  few. 
From  broken  ranks  the  many  flee.    But.  courage!  Yonder,  see, 
Fpou  the  battle's,  edge  is  Lee!  The  god  of  war  is  he! 
Serene,  elate,  with  steadfast  will,  he  bids  the  storm  be  still. 
He  plants  his  heroes  on  the  hill,  the  deadly  breach  to  fill. 
We  lead  our  march;  to  us  he  turns.    That  heart,  each  man  ir.s;-enis. 
Big  as  a  world,  with  pity  yearns,  and  yet  with  valor  burns 
Sterner  tliau  death  and  fate. 

"Ye  Texas  men  whom  Hood  has  led. 
Who  for  our  land  so  oft  have  bled, 
But  from  the  foe  have  never  fled; 


THE   TEXAS    BRIGADE     AT   THE   WILDERNESS.         599 

Now  !>■  your  tiino  to  ti.aht! 

"This  hour  decides  your  country's  weal; 
Quick!  into  line  of  battle  wheel. 
And  give  the  enemy  cold  steel; 
And  Uod  defend  the  right." 

What  answer  gave  the  fierce  hurrah  that  rent  tli(>  lowering  s.ky? 

Our  purpose  grim,  our  fiery  will,  resolved  to  do  or  die. 

But  well  we  understood  the  task,  now  set  for  us  to  do. 

Our  corps  was  near,  its  ranks  were  full,  its  men  worp  staundi  and 

true; 
But  time  must  lapse  before  the  mass  is  formed  in  due  array; 
And  to  our  foes  what  vantage  ground  may  not  this  space  betray? 
It  is  our  blood  that  must  redeem  this  time,  and  so  giA'e  pause 
Till  ampler  food  be  ready  made  to  till  this  Moloch's  jaws. 
"Forward,  the  First  Bridgade!"  cries  Gregg,  but  not  alone  leads  he; 
For  lo!  beside  him  at  the  front,  the  towering  form  of  Lee. 
Where  he  sends  us  he  too  will  go.    A  crisis  woirth  our  blood 
He  sees;  his  own  more  precious  drops  must  join  our  cheaper  flood. 
He  bares  his  head;  the  s.unbeams  stain  his  hoary  locks  with  fire; 
He  speaks  no  word,  but  look  and  mien  sublime  all  hearts  inspire, 
Then  from  the  grizzly  soldiers'  eyes  who  wont  in  battle's  throes 
To  laugh,  and  mock  at  peril's  dread,  the  briny  flood  o'erflows. 
Not  coward-tears  are  these,  but  such  as  come  from  martyr's  eyes; 
Who  for  Christ's  truth,  and  heavenly  joys,  the  stake  and  fire  despise. 
Ye  proud  invaders,  well  may  ye  these  weeping  foemen  fear; 
A  thousand  drops  from  next  your  heart,  shall  pay  each  generous  tear. 
F'or  hear  their  word:  "For  that  old  man  we'll  charge  the  gates  of 

hell! 
Not  shall  he  share  the  deadly  risk!"  for  he  is  loved  too  well. 
Let  lives  the  cause  can  better  spare  make  up  the  holocaust. 
Here  then  we  halt,  till  he  retire  to  his  more  proper  post. 
At  last  he  yields.    Now  shall  he  see,  how  we  will  do  our  pax'ts. 
"Forwa'rd  again!"  with  trailed  arms  each  man  impetous  starts, 
Like  hounds  unleashed  that  seek  the  game,  we   pierce   the   smoking 

wood. 
Five  to  our  one,  in  leafy  screens  ambushed,  the  foemen  stood. 
"One  volley,  boys,  low.  in  the  breast;  then  to  the  bayonet!" 
As  through  the  tangled  brush  wo  tore,  a  second  line  we  met, 
And  iniow  a  third,  replacing  those  that  fled  before  our  blows. 
And  worse;  their  overlapping  wings  our  right  and  left  enclose; 
With  fire  in  front,  and  fire  in  flank,  our  thin  lines  melt  away. 
Our  charge  must  pause;  we  are  too  few!  But  hei'e  at  least  to  stay! 
And  we  will  die  so  hard  and  slow,  that  Lee  the  time  shall  save 
He  needs,  to  form  his  battle  lines— so  shot  for  shot  we  gave, 
And  death  for  death  at  closest  range;  till  half  the  hour  was  spent. 
At  last!  thank  God!  at  last  'tis  done.    Hark  to  that  shout  which  rent 
The  very  heavens!    Hurrah!  They  come,  Longstreet  and  Anderson. 


600        THE   TEXAS     BRIGADE    AT   THE   WILDERNESS. 

Earth  shakes  beneath  their  myriad  feet!  Hurrah!  The  day  is  won! 
Two  miles  abreast,  an  alavanache  of  fire  and  steel  they  rush; 
AndU'ank  on  rank  in  fragments  break,  as  ocean    billows  crush 
The  rotten  barques;  and  drive  the  shreds,  as  chaff  before  the  storm. 
Six  hundred  men  and  seventy-two  there  were  that  mora,  to  form 
The  sturdy  remnant  of  the  lines,  at  first  three  thousand  strnnc;. 
Four  hundred  now  and  fifty  lay  the  bloody  trail  along. 
Bleeding  or  dead.    How  far  we  kept  our  pledge  these  numbers  tell. 
Ghosts  of  our  comrades  dead,  know  this:    Ye  were  avenged  well. 
If  streams  :of  meaner  blood  could  pay  for  each  rich  drop  of  yours. 
All  honor  to  our  gallant  Gregg!  As  yet  the  heavenly  powers 
Bore  him  unscatched  in  danger's  front.    All  honor  to  our  slain. 
Who  gave  their  all  for  country's  sake;  their  names  shall  live  again 
While  we  can  sing  their  deathless  deeds.    All  honor  to  the  chief 
Who  fain  would  spend  his  blood  with  ours,  to  buy  our  land  relief. 


Pnnceton  Theological  SeminarY-Sp^e''  Library 


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